Familiar Faces
by sg2009
Summary: AU John and Mary live only to hunt evil after losing their sons to the fire.  When they enlist a runaway to play bait for a monster, they discover things aren't always what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to their creators and not to me._

Mary had gone to the library to do research. She'd left John to talk to the street kids. They scattered when he tromped down the alley. It didn't bother him that they were afraid of him. Hell, normally he would have found it amusing. But today he needed answers. He needed the little punks to speak to him.

He glared down the alleyway at a group of six kids at the corner. They huddled together, jabbing each other with elbows and stealing glances at him. Finally, a skinny kid skulked towards him glancing back like the others had dared him over. The light between the brick buildings was dim and John couldn't make out the kids features other than freckles and short hair.

"You're a little old for this alley." The kid said. The others watched him from the corner. He turned around and smirked at them before grinning up at John. "The old-timers usually hang around the park."

"That so." John stood up tall, squared his shoulders. The kid came to about his shoulder. "I want to ask you some questions."

The boy patted him on the chest. "Sure. Its two blocks west. They got chess sets and everything." He started to walk away.

John reached out and grabbed his bony wrist. "Not so fast, smart ass." He pulled him back. "Like I said, I got some questions."

The kid's arm tensed in his grip. John let him go but kept him in reach.

The boy held his gaze. "And who the hell are you?" He said.

"My name's John." He said motioning to the area. "Kids have been going missing 'round here. You know anything about that?"

"People go missing all the time here." A bitter look passed over his face. "No one's looking for 'em."

"Yeah. Well maybe I am." John rummaged in his back pocket, unfolded pictures of three of the missing boys. "You recognize any of them?"

The kid didn't reach out for the papers, but his sharp green eyes took in the details fast. "Yeah. I knew them." He said. "But I dunno what happened to them."

John doubted that. The kid said 'knew them' not 'know them'. He and Mary had suspected the worst. The boy glanced back and John followed his gaze. His friends at the end of the road skittered away. The kid sighed and slumped against the wall.

"So you knew them? What happened?" John tried to sound sympathetic. Friendly. But it came out rough and demanding even to his ears.

The boy shifted on his feet. "Like I said, they disappeared." He stepped back. "That's all I know, man." He turned and hurried away.

John watched him. Something wasn't right. It was too quick a getaway for such a cocky kid. "Dammit." He walked after the boy as he patted down his leather jacket. Little shit lifted his wallet. "Hey!" He increased his pace. "Wait up."

The kid turned back. John saw fear cross his face and thought the thieving punk was going to bolt and he would have to run him down. And John would run him the hell down. But a smirk quickly replaced the expression. The kid leaned against the brick of the alleyway and waited. Either he was not smart enough to run or smart enough to know John would catch him.

"Dude. I told you I dunno what happened to those guys."

John crowded him to the wall. "Wallet." He held out his hand.

The kid froze for a moment then shrugged. "You robbing me or somethin'. Cause, really, I ain't exactly loaded. You need to pick better marks. Maybe if you try-"

John pushed him against the wall. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to get his attention. The kid grimaced.

"Son, you have three seconds to hand it over." John said.

The kid swallowed and bit his lip like he was thinking hard. Finally, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the wallet. "I think you dropped this." He said holding it out and smiling.

John snatched it from him. He kept him trapped and checked the contents. The cash was missing. Sneaky little bastard. "Where's the rest of it?"

The kid opened his mouth. Maybe to deny having the money; maybe to smart ass some more, but snapped it shut at John's glower. The boy reached into his back pocket. "Here." He grinned again. "Hey. No harm, no foul. Can't blame a guy for trying, right?"

It was John's turn to grin. He needed information and this punk was about to give it to him. "I oughta drag your ass down to the police station, kid."

He paled. "You got your stuff back." He said.

"Tell me what you know, what you really know, about these disappearances and we'll call it even."

The boy peered up at him. "You won't believe me." He said and John knew he'd seen the creature.

"I'll believe you."

The boy snorted. "Fine." He lifted his hands up. "If that's what you want." He caught John's gaze as if daring John to accept his next words. "It was some sort of freak." He shrugged. "I don't know. It dragged them away."

"Freak? Like a monster."

The kid tensed and looked down. When he looked back up his face dripped of teenage defiance. "No. Not like a monster. An actual monster. A real, live, monster."

"You believe in monsters, kid?"

"Doesn't matter what I believe in. That's what it was." He said in a resigned tone.

"I know." John said.

The boy looked surprised at that. "You do?"

John considered the kid again. This one had seen the supernatural before. John was sure of it. "My partner and I hunt them. Monsters. And we're going to stop this sonuvabitch." He explained. "Did you get a look at it?"

The kid shifted on his feet but he nodded. "She looked like an old biddy. But she was fast. And she had claws."

That sounded right. Mary had thought it might be a harpy. "Did you see where it took them?"

"No." The kid said, frowning. "But they all disappeared in the alley behind the shelter."

"Hmm." That alley was dark and surrounded by tall buildings. It would be perfect hunting ground for a harpy. "Can you take me there?"

The kid laughed. Out and out laughed at him. He quieted quickly though. "Sorry, man. I pretty much stay away from monster-snatching grounds."

John had an idea. He looked the kid over. "How old are you?"

"What do you care?"

John didn't care that much. But he didn't want to put anyone too young in harm's way. "Tell me." He said, making his voice as authoritative and intimidating as possible.

The kid puffed up. "Nineteen."

It was John's turn to laugh. "How old are you really?"

"Seventeen."

John peered at him. It was hard to tell the kid's age under the grime of the street and his layers of clothes. Seventeen. Maybe. John could believe it. The older the better for what John had in mind. But the harpy probably sought out the younger ones. "You got a name?"

"Yeah."

John waited.

The kid huffed. "Dean." He said. "We done with the heart to heart, John?"

John shook his head. Of course that would be the name the kid gave him. That name still stung. He shook off the ache of it.

"I got a proposition for you, Dean." John said.

Dean's eyes grew big and he jerked away. He put up his palms. "Look, pervert. I don't do that." He stepped back. "Try the corner of fourth and main."

Damn this boy was giving him a headache. "Relax, Dean." John rubbed his temple. "I just want you to play bait."

"For the kid-stealing monster?" Dean's brow knitted. "Why the hell would I wanna do that?"

John opened his wallet again. "Fifty bucks." He said.

Dean bit his lip and contemplated it. His eyes lingered on the bills. "One hundred."

Well. John scratched his chin. The kid looked like he needed it. "Alright." He said.

"And I want half up front."

"I'll give you twenty." John gruffed out. "You can have the other eighty when the job is done."

"Forty." Dean said standing straight and steeling himself. "Or no deal."

"I can find someone else, son."

Dean flinched at the words, but quickly recovered. "Someone else won't believe you about the monster." He hit him with a knowing expression. "They'll run as soon as they realize it's real. I won't."

"Twenty." John held his ground. "Sorry, Dean. But I sure as hell don't trust you with more than that." He offered the bill.

Dean grabbed it and stuffed it into his pocket. "Fine. But I gotta go do something first."

"You expect me to just let you leave with my money?"

The kid rolled his eyes. "Dude. I want the other eighty. I'll be back."

That John believed. Well. Not entirely, but he believed it enough to let Dean go. "Meet me and my partner in front of the Goodwill in two hours." John caught his eyes. "And you'd better be there." He told him. He watched Dean hurry away and hoped he hadn't just given away twenty bucks.

Two hours later John stood in front of the Goodwill. The kid showed up at exactly eight o'clock. John was reluctantly impressed.

"I'm here, dude." Dean said. He crossed his arms and scoped out the area. "What now?"

"We wait for my partner. And while we do this it's 'sir' not 'dude'. Especially if you want the rest of your cash." The boy could use some manners. John glanced at his watch. "She should be here soon."

"She?" The boy sounded skeptical. "Your partner's a chick?"

"My partner's my wife." John said. Although with their current relationship 'partner' was much more appropriate. Still. "And I expect you to treat her with respect." John warned the punk. He pointed as the Impala pulled around the corner. "There she is."

"Cool car." Dean said. He squinted toward the driver's seat. Suddenly, his face drained of color. "Um…" He sounded nervous. "What's her name? Your partner?" The words came out cracked.

"To you?" John peered at him. He hoped the kid wasn't losing his bravado now. "It's 'yes ma'am, no ma'am'. You got it, Dean."

Dean peered back at him like he was searching his face for something. He glanced between John and Mary as she parked the car. Finally, he offered a wobbly smile. "Yes sir." He said.

***

Mary stopped the car in front of the Goodwill. This part of the city was dirty and broken, full of closed stores and lost people. The uncomfortable sights tightened her chest. She wanted to leave this forgotten place and these forgotten people and find a hunt that would save someone who could be saved, someone who wouldn't disappear into the streets after the monster was dead. And she would have given the job away, would have insisted they find a different battle, would have left this city that was just as broken and lost as she and John and would never have given it a second thought except - except this creature was taking kids - kids from the streets, runaways and hustlers, kids probably no one cared about. Kids no one missed.

Mary turned off the car and waited. She clenched her fingers around the steering wheel. Whatever capacity she had to care for these urchins and their plight had died the same night the fire had taken her boys. But it had been replaced with a deep-seated anger. The same anger she knew that burned in John's gut. It was the thing left that united them. And the monster, the harpy, was attacking these kids. And that she couldn't ignore. She couldn't forget. She was going to rip this thing apart and John was going to burn its sorry corpse to ashes.

Mary got out, closed the door with a heavy thud, and leaned against the car. John nodded to her from the corner. She didn't know if she loved him more than before they'd lost the boys or if she hated his handsome face. He wasn't the man she married. That man was strong and stubborn and loving. The man coming towards her was strong and stubborn and a hunter – and as rough and dangerous as any she'd known growing up.

John strode up to the car with one of the street kids trailing behind him. The boy was lanky and stood about at John's shoulder. A runaway or a hustler, didn't matter, she found it hard to care these days.

"Mary." John nodded to the kid. "This is…" He sighed and she knew he didn't want to give her the next bit of information. "This is Dean. He wants to play bait." He shook his head and chuckled. "For a price."

"Oh." Mary squinted at the kid. He had freckles, big green eyes and short brown hair – a cute kid under the street dirt. The harpy would definitely go for this one. But she wasn't calling him Dean. That name belonged to her little boy and no one else. She caught his eyes. "You understand this is dangerous, hon?"

"Dean." He corrected with a smirk. "Yes Ma'am. I understand." There was something odd written in his expression. Hope, maybe. He stared at her a moment, looking expectant. He stole a quick glance back to John. He shuffled on his feet. Then his face turned hard. "Whatta I got to do?"

John turned to Mary. "We know what it is?"

"Harpy." Mary said, moving around to the trunk. "Beheading should kill it."

John spoke to the kid. "All you've got to do is sit in the alley behind the shelter and look pretty."

"And?" Dean asked.

Mary placed her hand on his shoulder. "And John and I will take care of it. Just get down and stay down when we tell you too. Got it?"

Dean stared at her, eyes big and sad. "Yeah." He said finally, his voice dropping low. He looked away. "Okay."

They got settled right after dark. Mary took the corner. John hid beside the dumpster. She saw his machete gleam as it caught some stray moonlight. Dean sat cross-legged in the middle of the space. About thirty minutes into the job, the boy started whistling and fidgeting. He waved to her and pulled a funny face. She remained quiet; vigilant. She wasn't here to bond with the locals.

An hour later the air became thick. A rotten scent floated to her nose. Mary readied her knife. The boy seemed to sense it too. He leaned back and glanced above him, his face scrunched in worry.

"_Scrrreeecchcch!"_

It came from the sky – screeching and diving towards Dean with remarkable speed.

"Holy shi-" He started.

John ran out, grabbed the kid and flung him out of the way. "Stay down!" He said.

It landed. It had the face of a haggard old woman but the human resemblance ended there. Mottled feathers spread over large, disheveled wings. Talons, long and thin and stained red, jutted from the tips of its wings and feet. Its eyes focused past John on the boy behind him.

"Move." It said to John in a raspy voice. "We prefer more tender meat."

John sneered at it. "Come and get it then." He said.

The harpy attacked, wings slashing, face twisted. Mary jumped from her hiding place. She ran up behind it while it rushed John and jammed her knife into the creature's neck. It swirled around and lashed at her. She stumbled back and tripped. It raised its sharp wing for another blow. John brought his machete across its neck. The head rolled down the road and the grotesque body fell to the asphalt in a bloody heap.

John held out a hand and pulled her up. "Guess you owe me one now." He said gazing down at the monster. "Wish they were all that easy."

Mary wiped her hands on her pants. She'd never liked the fact this job was dirty. "We need to burn it." She said.

Dean crawled around the body of the harpy. His eyes widened as he got a closer look. "Holy shit." He said, climbing to his feet. He turned and smiled at them. "You guys kicked ass."

John reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. "Eighty bucks." He said. "Now get lost kid."

Dean stared dumbly at him for a moment. "What…what now?" He took the bills.

John grabbed his bag from beside the dumpster. He pulled out the lighter fluid. "Now Mary and I finish the job and move on." He doused the corpse. "I suggest you run along before the cops notice the blaze."

The boy glanced at her. "Mary?" He said sounding lost and looking terribly young to her eyes.

Mary sighed. She put her palm against his cheek. "Go home, Dean." She said hoping he understood she'd meant to go back to wherever he'd come from. This was no place for someone his age. She pulled her hand back and grabbed a match. The corpse burst into flames as soon as it dropped

John, whose hard face was lit by the fire, ushered the boy away. "We all need to get going." He said.

Dean stayed put. He looked down the dark street and then back at Mary. "I…I need to tell you something." He said.

"Is that so." John stuffed the knife and machete into his bag.

"Y-yeah." Dean stumbled. "I…um-" He bit his lip and looked at the ground.

Sirens blared in the distance.

Mary nodded to John. "We've got to go." She smiled at the boy. "Goodbye Dean."

"Wait. Wait." He said. "Just. I think-" The words got caught and he seemed to redirect them. "Just tell me where you're staying. Please." He said.

John snorted. He shook his head and walked towards the car.

Dean caught her eyes. "Please, Mary."

"The Bluelight." She said, turning to follow John. "Room 104." The sirens got louder.

Dean grinned at her and ran off in the opposite direction. She hurried to catch up with John.

"You told the little punk our address?" He chuckled. "Getting soft there Mary. What're you planning to do if he shows up?" Then his face fell serious. "He's got the same name. That's all. Nothing else."

"What does it matter?" She glared at him. She damn well knew that urchin wasn't her Dean. Her Dean was sweet and innocent and _dead_ – reduced to nothing more to ashes when the demon attacked. "We'll be gone by morning regardless."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stopped at the all-night convenience store. Motel Bluelight. Room 104. He kept repeating it. He didn't want to forget it. Inside, he grabbed some chips, five candy bars, batteries, children's Tylenol, and a two liter soda. The chubby guy behind the counter kept his eyes glued to him. Dean dumped the stuff on the counter.

"Thirteen-thirty-four." The man said.

Dean pulled out a twenty and gave it to him. He grabbed three comic books and had him add them to the tally. "These too." He needed something to read while Sam was _studying_. Really. Studying? Who did that?

After checking out, he knees were wobbly. He sank down and sat on the curb. Motel Bluelight. Room 104. That's where they were. John and Mary. Holy shit. Dean was almost ninety percent sure those two monster hunting bad-asses were his parents. He got up, hugged the bag to his chest, and headed towards the side ally. But his parents had died in the fire. Right? That's what he and Sammy's foster family had told them. He rubbed his face. But those two looked just like them. And they had the same names. Yeah. That was them.

"Then why didn't they recognize you?" He mumbled to himself. He turned down a small street to the left. It had been ten years. How could they recognize him? He looked a lot different at fourteen than he had at four. And he'd convinced John he was older.

The abandoned Ford sat at the end of the street. The wheels and hubcaps were gone. The hood was rusted. Tomorrow, he decided. He'd go talk to them tomorrow. He'd find out who they were. He needed to know if they were who he thought they were.

He walked up to the old car and knocked on the hood three times. The driver's side door unlocked. Dean smiled. Mostly intact windows and doors that locked. What more could he ask for in a car? Sammy's little face popped up in the dark window a second later. His hair was long and hanging down into his eyes.

Dean opened the door and clamored inside. The burger bag from earlier was crumpled on the floor. He locked the door behind him. "Hey. Brought you dessert." He tossed him the chips and two of the candy bars.

Sam frowned but took them. "I'm bored. And cold." He said. "How long are we going to stay here, Dean?"

Dean felt his stomach drop at the question. They weren't safe at the home and he'd gotten them away. But he didn't know what to do now. If John and Mary were really their parents than maybe they could go live with them again. Dean choked down the hope in that thought and fished out the batteries.

"For your flashlight." He said.

Sam smiled; a small sad smile that barely showed his dimples. "Thanks. I need to read the next chapter in my science book tonight."

Dean barely contained a derisive snort. Leave it to geeky Sam to grab his school books when they have to run for their lives. Really. The kid could have grabbed food or clothes or something more practical.

"I don't wanna get behind, Dean." Sam said.

"You're in fourth grade."

Sam fixed his light and turned it on. "Yeah. And I wanna be in fifth grade next year." He sneezed and wiped his hand on his sleeve. His lip curled down. "You should keep up too if you don't wanna repeat a year."

Dean shrugged. "Here." He fished out the medicine and worked on the child proof top. "Take some of this before-" Dean stopped. The same rotten stench he'd smelled earlier with the harpy hung in the air. He glanced out the dark window into the dimly lit alley. "Turn off the light, Sam."

"Why-"

Dean grabbed it and flipped it off. He motioned to Sam to be quiet. Sam's eyes widened and he scooted closer to him. Dean waited. His heart thudded in his chest, bouncing off the thoracic walls so loud that he was certain the whole city could hear it.

There was a loud screech. Dean pushed Sam down on the seat as something banged into the roof of the car. Then it moved, clinking across the roof and then the hood. Dean covered his brother and closed his eyes. Nothing happened. Cautiously, he opened them.

There at the window, lit by the half-light of the city, was the face of a wrinkled old woman. But it wasn't the one from earlier. Dean slid himself and Sam towards the opposite side of the car.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

It rapped on the window with a sharp talon.

He pushed Sam behind him. His little brother buried his face against Dean's back. Dean caught the thing's eyes.

"Shoo." He said because it worked with pigeons. "Go away."

The thing cocked its head. "You killed my sister." It rasped.

Dean frowned. "That wasn't me. I was just there." But he didn't think it understood the difference.

It screamed and Dean knew they were in trouble. It brought the talon back and smashed it through the window. The glass shattered, spraying him with small sharp pieces. It pushed its head through the now empty window frame.

Dean stared terrified. Then he started kicking at it. It got further inside. He kicked at its face. The harpy forced its left wing and talon inside. Dean pushed Sam further back.

"Go, Sam. Run!" He said. "Get outta here!" Dean landed a hard foot to its nose. It screamed and swiped its talon inside, catching on the thigh of Dean's jeans. It sneered and pushed closer.

Dean heard the door unlock and he and Sam tumbled out.

"Dean?" Sam said shakily from underneath him.

Dean jumped up and grabbed his brother's hand. The monster squeezed into the car, forcing its way through, and following them.

"Come on." Dean said, dragging Sam as fast as he could as he ran through the dark streets. Motel Bluelight was two blocks away. Dean didn't look back.

The door to the room faced the parking lot. Dean pounded on it.

"Let us in! Let us in!" He said. "John! Mary?" He pounded more. "There's another one. There's another harpy! Let us in!" He pounded harder.

The door opened slowly. Dean tried to push inside but was stopped by a strong arm. He looked up and saw John gazing down at them. He had his other arm tucked behind the door.

"What's all this?" He sounded distinctly unhappy.

Dean breathed in and out rapidly. He pulse beat hard against his neck. "T-There's another one." He said. "A-Attacked us."

John peered at him and then out into the parking lot. He opened the door wider. Dean ran inside dragging Sam behind him. John had a pistol in his other hand. Mary stood in the corner holding a knife. She set it down at the same time John closed the door and put his gun in the back of his pants.

John turned to him. "You think there's another harpy?" He said.

"Well, duh." Dean pulled Sam close to him. "It tried to eat us."

John and Mary exchanged glances. Dean had the distinct impression they didn't believe him. "Why would I make that up?" He said, suddenly angry. "It attacked us."

Sammy peaked out from behind him. "Yeah." He added.

"There's another one." Dean said, feeling the adrenalin rush ebbing. His head spun and he reached out to Sam to steady him. "T-there's-" His body suddenly gave out. He heard Sam shouting for him as the floor rushed towards him. John caught him about two feet above it.

"Whoa there." John said. He lifted Dean back up and maneuvered him to lie back on the bed. "Let's get a look at you."

Sammy hopped up next to him, his little face wide with concern. "Dean?" He asked in a small voice. He snuggled close and glared at the adults.

Mary appeared beside the bed with a medical kit. She glanced curiously at Sam and back at Dean. "Are you alright?" She said with her brow arched in concern.

Dean nodded. "Yeah…just whoozy."

John looked him over. His eyes stopped on his leg. "That's a pretty bad gash you got, Dean." He said, carefully pulling the fabric back.

"Okay." Dean said. Now that he was lying down he realized his leg did hurt.

"Hmm." John said. "You're lucky it's not deeper, son."

Mary frowned down at the cut. "It needs to be cleaned and dressed." She pulled out butterfly bandages. "We'll get you fixed up and then we'll talk about what you saw. Alright?"

"Okay." Dean blinked up at her. He felt himself shaking. It wasn't from the wound. He was sure Mary was her. He was sure of it. "I think you're our Mom." He blurted out. She stared down at him, her expression shifting from concern to disbelief with a touch of anger. Dean closed his eyes. That wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Or maybe it was, but it wasn't the reaction he wanted. He let unconsciousness pull him under as it all became too much to handle.

***

Sam scooted closer to his brother. He glared up at the woman. "Don't look at my brother like that." He said. He shook Dean. "Dean?" He said.

Dean turned his head and mumbled, but didn't respond.

Sam didn't like these people. "Dean?" He tried again, his voice shaking.

The man Dean had called John held his fingers against Dean's neck and then felt his forehead. "He's alright. Just needs a little rest." He eyed Sam curiously. "He's had a rough night. He'll be okay."

Sam felt the hard expression fall from his face. He looked back at Dean. "Are you…are you sure he's okay?"

"Yeah, son. I'm sure." John said. He pulled at the rip in Dean's jeans and began cleaning the cut with alcohol wipes. "We'll get him fixed up."

Sam nodded. He didn't want to trust these two. But Dean had brought them here. And Dean wouldn't have done that unless they were okay. Sam looked up at Mary again. Dean thought she was their mother? That's what he'd said before he passed out. He took in her blond hair and pretty face. She did look the way Dean had described except she seemed to be frozen in place. Sam stifled a cough and hugged his arms to his chest.

Mary took in a shaky breath and focused on him, apparently out of her paralysis. "Honey, how old are you?" She said in a concerned voice.

Sam shrugged. Dean usually told people he was older than he was. He said it was safer that way. But Sam didn't think that would work for him. He was small for his actual age. "I'm nine." He said.

"And you and your brother have been living out on the street?" She said.

Sam bit his lip. He wasn't going to answer that. That was none of her business.

John bandaged the cut and then caught Sam's eyes. "How old is your brother?" He asked, suspicion heavy in the question.

Sam should lie. He knew he should. But John kept staring at him with such an authoritative air that the truth came out before he could stop it. "He just turned fourteen." He said quietly.

John's eyebrows went up and Sam knew he had blown it. Dean had obviously told him he was a lot older.

John cursed under his breath. "He _just_ turned fourteen?" He said.

The need to defend his brother overcame him. "He's mature for his age." Sam told them. It was something people usually said about Sam and never about Dean. But Sam thought it applied to his brother just fine. Not that he'd ever tell him that. But still. Sam coughed into his sleeve.

John laughed, but he didn't sound amused.

Mary sat down on the bed beside him. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Sam." He said his voice dropping to a whisper. "But Dean calls me Sammy." He caught her eyes. "No one else gets to call me that though." He wanted them both to understand that it was Sam to them. He looked down to his brother and back up to her. "Are…are you really my mom?" He said. "Dean said you died in a fire."

Mary smiled at him, but her eyes looked big and worried. "I'm not sure, Sam." She said.

"Yeah." Sam smiled back and looked away. "Me neither." He said.


	3. Chapter 3

Mary didn't know what to make of the two boys. She admitted they looked like they _could_ be her kids. And nothing about them screamed 'evil' to her. The older one was sprawled on the bed – not unconscious but exhausted. His pale cheeks were dusted with freckles and his eyes were closed tight like he hadn't slept in weeks. His dark eyelashes twitched against his skin. Mary put her hand over her mouth. Her Dean had had long eyelashes and freckles. The ache in her chest throbbed.

The little one sneezed. Mary turned to him. The med kit didn't have anything in it for children. She put her hand on his forehead. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"Okay." He said offering her a weak grin. His cheeks dented with little dimples and his hair fell down into his face. She pushed it out of his eyes. Her baby Sammy had dimples too.

"Mary." John said. He stood in the corner with a vial of holy water. "We don't know." He said palming a silver knife.

Mary cut her eyes at him. She settled on the bed beside Sam and put her arm around him. Maybe she didn't know that they were _her_ children, but she was certain that they _were_ children. Children that had been attacked by a harpy because she and John weren't thorough enough to realize there were two monsters. The little boy sniffled. If John thought he was dousing Sam in holy water or cutting him with silver then he was sadly mistaken.

"No." She said glaring at the man.

Sam lifted his head and glanced between them curiously. Mary hugged him tighter. He tensed at first, but after a moment rested his too warm forehead against her.

"We need to get him medicine." She said.

John walked over and sat the knife and water on the table. He had the audacity to speak to her gently. "First things first, Mary, we need to make sure they are what they appear to be. It's necessary."

"No. It's not." She said.

John sighed. "This is the perfect way for something to get to us. We need to make sure they're human."

Sam wriggled away from her. "I'm human." He sounded plenty offended for a nine year old. "So is Dean."

"Maybe." John said.

Sam's mouth curled down. He reached over and shook his sleeping brother. "Dean. Dean wake up."

Mary considered stopping him. The older boy needed to rest. But she knew if this didn't get resolved soon, John would find a way to resolve it on his own and that was never good.

Dean's eyelashes fluttered. He awoke suddenly, sitting up and breathing hard. "Sam?" He said taking in the room. She could tell it took him a moment to remember where he was.

"He doesn't think we're human." Sam said, eying John as suspiciously as John was eying him.

Dean's brow knitted. He swallowed hard. "Okay." He said, catching on quick. "How do we prove to you were not freaks?"

John poured the water into a glass. "Drink this."

Dean scrunched his face. "What is it?"

"If you're just a kid, it's water." John said.

Dean stared at it. "Yeah. Yeah, alright." He took the cup with a shaky grip and brash expression. He downed the water in a gulp.

Mary watched intently. So did John.

Dean wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Do I pass?"

"So far." John said. He poured another glass of water. "Him too."

Dean bit his lip, grappling with the idea. Finally he grabbed the cup and handed it to Sam. "Just a small sip, Sam."

Sam drank a small amount. Then he drank the rest of it. Dean frowned and pulled the glass away from him.

"I'm thirsty." Sam said. "And my throat hurts. Besides you drank it too."

Mary put her arm around him again. "Are you happy now, John?"

"Not yet." He grabbed the silver knife and spoke to Dean. "Lots of evil things respond badly to silver." He said.

Dean's eyes got wide. He scooted back. "You're not cutting Sammy."

Good boy. Mary nodded her agreement.

John rubbed his hand over his stubble. She realized he didn't want to hurt the little one either. "I need to know for certain, Dean. It doesn't have to be deep."

Dean's face became contemplative. He glanced between them. "Okay." He said finally. "Okay. You can nick me. But not Sam." He pulled his sleeve up.

Sam pushed away from Mary. "No." He glowered at John. His small chin set in a stubborn pout. "You can't cut Dean either. He's already hurt."

"Sam." Dean started. "It's okay-"

"No." Sam said, his voice rising. "If they're gonna do that, we're better off back in the alley hiding from the monsters." He folded his arms and his face became set. "It's not fair, Dean." He said quietly. "No."

Mary sucked in a breath. She recognized the stubborn set of his jaw; the hard unyielding glare. It was the same expression she'd seen on John's face time and time again. This might be her Sammy. Hope jumped around uncomfortably in her stomach. She exhaled. She couldn't think like that. Not yet. Not for something this big. But that didn't mean she couldn't protect these boys.

John moved towards the bed. He kneeled so he could be on an even level with Sam. "It's a precaution. I won't hurt your brother, Sam."

Mary glanced down at Dean's jeans. The denim was frayed and stained with his blood. She'd watched John tend to the wound. It wasn't bad. It didn't even need stitches. But if it had been a little deeper…she felt her chin tremble…if it had been a little deeper, the slash would have nicked an artery and he'd have bled out.

"No, John." The poor boy had been through enough for one night. He'd collapsed for heaven's sake. She put her hand on Dean's cheek. He was so pale. His cheeks heated into a blush. She fixed John with a hard glare.

"No. They're kids, John." Mary said. "That's enough."

John stood up, grumbling under his breath. "Fine." He said.

But she knew this was going to come up again. "Go get the medicine. Please. We can talk about this later."

"It's the middle of the night. Where am I supposed to find it?"

Mary rubbed her temple. The stress of the evening was building a pounding headache. John didn't want to leave her alone with the boys. Not until he was absolutely certain they were human. She rubbed the little boy's back. But she was certain. And the more she cradled Sam, the more her heart screamed he was her baby. And he was sick and had been on the street for god knew how long and he needed medicine. John could save the interrogation for the morning. She opened her mouth to speak but Dean beat her to it.

"I know a place that's open all night." He fumbled off the bed and stood up. "I'll show you." He said.

John crossed his arms. He peered at the kid and considered it. "I don't know." But the idea of leaving only one of them with her seemed to soften him. Dean caught that too.

The older boy grinned. "I'll show you, sir?" He stumbled a little.

Mary reached out to steady him. They should both stay. "Maybe you should rest a little longer."

"Only a scratch." He frowned down at the rip. "No one around here's gonna notice the blood. I'm fine. Really. And Sam needs the kid medicine."

Sam started coughing; his little body shook against her. Mary looked at Dean. He was favoring his right leg.

"Sweetie, you can stay and rest." She said. "John can handle it."

John locked eyes with her. His lips twitched down. Dean glanced between her and John.

"It's alright." Dean said. "Really, Mary. I wanna go with." He grinned weakly.

"Fine." Mary said. She tucked Sam closer and leveled a glare at John. "Hurry back."

***

Dean acted nervous when they left the room. He glanced side to side and up at the dark sky.

"Relax, Dean." John said. "The harpy won't attack when you're with me."

"Why are you so sure?" He said moving towards the car.

"It takes secluded victims."

"Sam and I were both there when it attacked tonight." He said. "So that's not necessarily true."

John looked around the lot. "Maybe not. But it doesn't go for adults." He unlocked the car. But the boy was right. They needed to be careful. "Get in."

Dean's eyes wandered back to the motel door. He looked unsure. "Mary will look after him, right?"

John sighed. Mary had already emotionally adopted the smaller boy. Getting attached was dangerous. Not to mention stupid. John didn't know if she'd be able to handle it if he wasn't what he seemed. This job was turning complicated fast. Dean stared at him, waiting for an answer.

He smiled wryly. "Like a Mama bear." He said.

That satisfied the kid. He got in the passenger's side and grinned. "Dude, this is a sweet ride." He tapped his fingers on the dash and fidgeted in the seat. He cleared his throat. "You were pretty awesome with that machete." He said. "Like super-awesome."

"I practice." He drove them two blocks over to a corner convenience store, killed the engine and spoke to the kid. "I need to be sure, Dean."

Dean held out his arm like he'd expected it. "Not to deep." He said.

John pulled out the knife. He sliced a thin cut down his arm. Dean winced but didn't react to anything but the cut. John produced a bandage he'd pocketed and wrapped the boy's arm.

"That's it?" Dean said.

"Yep. For now." John opened his door with cautious relief running through him. "Come on."

Dean limped inside in front of John and headed straight to the third aisle. John detoured towards the food and gathered some things he thought the boys might eat. Mary would want to feed them. He was sure of it.

Dean was already at the counter when he walked up.

The man behind it sneered down at the medicine. "More cough medicine? You addicted to the stuff or something, kid?" He laughed and rung it up. "I'll have to start charging more."

"Funny." Dean said. He fished twenty out from his pocket and John recognized it as one of the bills he'd given him earlier.

John put the food and juice on the counter next to the medicine. Dean paused. His shoulders slumped down and he reached in his pocket for another bill. John put his hand out to stop him.

"My treat. For not telling Mary about the silver." He said, fixing the man behind the counter with his most intimidating look. "How much?"

The man squirmed. "Twenty-six eighty."

John watched as Dean stumbled back to the car. Damn the kid was skinny. John got in the driver's seat. He wasn't sure why that was bothering him so much.

"What happened to the medicine you bought earlier?" He said.

Dean's mouth became a thin line. "I didn't drink it. I'm not addicted to the damn stuff." He said, crossing his arms and pulling shut the door with a bang. He paused and looked down. "It spilled when the harpy attacked us." He said.

John put the car in drive. "Hmm. And you're sure it looked like the other thing? You're positive it was a harpy and not something else?"

Dean snorted. "It's only the second freaky old bird woman I've seen up close. But yeah. I'm sure. Besides, it said the other one was its sister." Dean pulled at the threads in his jeans. "So…do you need me to play bait again?"

"I don't know. How much is it gonna cost me?" He pulled onto the road.

Dean smirked. "Hundred bucks is the going rate, sir."

John fought away a smile. He needed to stay serious and focused. He couldn't let this punk ease inside his defenses. "We'll see." Maybe the boys were human. It seemed more and more like they were. But he and Mary couldn't afford to take in strays. He pulled into the hotel and cut the engine but didn't move to get out. "We need to talk, Dean."

Dean fidgeted in his seat. "Okay."

"Why you think Mary's your mother? Cause whatever our problems; I don't like people messing with her."

"She..uh-" Dean pursed his lips. "She looks like my mom." He kept his eyes down. "And she has the same name. I…I thought she died in a fire when Sammy was just a baby. But-" He took a deep breath. "But when I saw her I thought maybe I was wrong about that." He glanced up at John. "And you look like my dad." He added in a soft voice.

"My sons are dead." John said it harsh, harsher than he intended. But life was harsh. If this kid was living on the streets, the sooner he learned it, the better.

Dean flinched and looked down at his lap.

"Sorry kid. The truth hurts." He said. This wasn't his son. He couldn't be. That would mean Dean and his brother had been alive for the past ten years. And Dean somehow ended up being a runaway that picked pockets on the street.

"Maybe you're wrong." Dean said in a defensive voice.

"Excuse me?" John said, letting his irritation show.

Dean lifted his head and looked at him with big, green eyes. "You're wrong. We thought you were dead too. That's what everybody said." He gulped and turned away from John's furious expression. "It's just that maybe you're wrong."

"That doesn't happen often, Dean." John shook his head. "Let's go inside."

"There was a monster that night too." Dean said in rushed words like he had to get it out fast or it would stay locked inside. "It was after Sammy. It's still after Sammy. And there was a fire in Sam's nursery. And I thought-" The words became shaky. "You said to run and take Sammy outside. I know you're my dad. I remember you."

John slowly turned back. He let the words sink into his head. Hell. That was exactly what had happened. But the boys hadn't made it out. Neither of them. He squeezed the steering wheel and inhaled slowly.

"This doesn't mean I'm convinced." John lumbered out. He felt out of sorts – like it was taking all his brain-power to function. It was uncomfortable. He hadn't felt like this in ten years. Not since the months after the fire. Not since he learned that his wife came from a family that hunted monsters. Not since he learned there _were_ monsters. John leaned back down and looked in the car. Dean was still sitting in the passenger seat pulling at his jeans.

"You better not be playing me, kid." His voice came out rough and shaky. He cleared his throat. "Bring the bags. You and your brother need food and rest."

Dean gave him a tentative smile. "Yes sir." He said clamoring out of the car.

Inside, Mary had curled the younger one under the blankets. She sat close to him, gazing down with an expression of pure shock. John grabbed the bags from Dean and set them on the nightstand.

"Wake up your brother and get some food and medicine in him." He put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Can I talk to you?"

Mary glared at him. "In a minute." She gave up her seat on the bed beside Sam. Dean settled in it and watched them walk to the other side of the room with undisguised interest.

"Medicine, Dean." John ordered.

"Right." Dean shook his brother and got out the Tylenol. "Here, Sam. Take it. No bizzaro bird freaks to interrupt this time." He poured some in the cap.

Sam mumbled something. He swallowed the stuff with a pinched expression, yawned, and laid back down. Dean settled beside him. They were both asleep in seconds. The food remained untouched in the bag. John considered rousting them.

"They're exhausted, John." Mary said in a soft voice. "We'll get some food in them tomorrow."

"Great." John said, sarcasm deep in his tone. "Then we'll never get rid of them."

Mary narrowed her eyes. "I didn't tell you to bring them food."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to be sent out to the store again tonight." He swallowed down the anger threatening to take over the conversation. They didn't have time for that now. "We need to talk about this. We don't know these are our kids."

"So you finally believe they're children?" Her eyes wandered to Dean. Suddenly her face became furious. "Did you cut him?" She said – her whispered words outraged. "Tell me you didn't cut that poor boy."

John saw no reason to deny it. "He passed."

She clenched her fist. John took a step back. His refined wife was about two seconds away from punching him.

She finally relaxed her hand but her soft voice remained laced in anger. "I think that's enough tests, John. They drank holy water. There was no reaction to silver. And they have had no problems entering the room and you carved every protective run you could think of into the wallpaper when we checked in." She lifted her chin. "I'm not putting Sam back out on the streets." She glanced at the sleeping boys. "I'm not putting either of them back on the streets."

The idea of leaving the boys out there made his stomach sink, but that didn't mean the kids were their responsibility. There were lots of urchins in town. "Until we take care of the harpy, they'll need to stay with us." He conceded. "After that, I'm not sure."

"If there's a chance in hell those are my sons, I'm keeping them." She swirled around and went into the bathroom. John knew the only thing that kept her from slamming the door was the sleeping forms on the bed. "Maybe I'll keep them even if they're not." She said as it shut.

John frowned. He walked over and gazed down at the boys with a clenched his jaw. He had the sudden urge to shake them awake and read them the riot act about trusting strangers. Those boys were taking a big risk sleeping with him and Mary in the room. Dean and Sam had no idea if he they were trustworthy. There were lots of monsters in the world both human and supernatural. John got the spare spread from the closet.

Well, Sam was pretty young so maybe he had an excuse. Dean at fourteen should have known better. If he was going to survive in this world he'd need to be more careful. He put the extra blanket over the boys. And if Dean was his son, and that was a big if, he'd really need to learn to be more careful. Trust like this was dangerous. It could get both of the boys killed. John gazed down at them. He'd have to have a talk with Dean about that.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean awoke in a bed. And that was strange because he and Sam had been living in the car for the last twenty-seven days. He sat up and pushed off the blanket. Sam was beside him under a mound of covers, sleeping and snoring; his breathing congested and loud.

He rubbed his eyes and swung his feet onto the floor. It took all of his control not to jump in surprise when he saw Mary sitting in the chair beside the bed, watching him and Sam. He took a deep breath. Dean thought he'd dreamed the day before. That he'd wake up cold and hungry in the rusted Ford curled up beside Sam.

After all, he'd dreamed his dead parents had found him enough times before. Although in the dreams they usually grabbed him and hugged him and wouldn't let him go. These two hadn't even recognized him. And then John cut him with a silver knife. Well. As long as that was as rough as they got, Dean would take it. He rubbed at the bandage.

Mary's eyes fell to his arm. "Let me see, honey."

Dean cradled his arm closer. He appreciated the concern but he wished she would call him by his name. He always remembered her calling him Dean. And she'd called Sam by his name.

"I just want to check it." She reached over and pulled his arm to her. "John and I decided that we need to take care of the harpy right away – especially since it attacked you two away from its hunting grounds. Then the four of us will sit down and talk about everything that has happened." She pulled at the tape. Her lip curled down at the cut. "It looks fine but you need to put more antibiotic on it and on your leg this morning."

Sam turned over and sniveled. Mary's expression morphed into motherly concern as her gaze fell past him onto his brother. She'd really taken to him. Dean sighed and pulled Sam's blanket up. Everyone took to Sam. Adults fawned over the kid. And on top of it Sam was smart. Like scary smart. And that made the grown-ups all the more attached.

"Where's John?" Dean asked drawing her attention back to him.

She arched her brows and glanced to the door. "Out." Her face became tight. "Making sure there's only one more harpy. We're going to take care of this horrible thing tonight."

"Okay." Dean steeled his expression. After the second one slashed him and crawled after him, the idea of seeing it up close again was a bit unsettling. "I'm the best harpy bait around." He said, forcing a grin. His eyes fell to Sam again. "Will Sam be safe while were gone?" He looked at Mary. She looked confused. "I mean, what if it comes after him instead? It saw him last night, too."

"The room is as protected as it can get." She rubbed at her forehead like her head was pounding. "He'll be safe while John and I are out. You both will."

Dean didn't understand. They needed to lure the harpy into the open. He couldn't do that if he was in the room with Sam. "But John said-"

"I don't care what John said." Mary stood up. She turned and peeked out the curtains into the parking lot. "You're not coming with us."

"Oh." He said wondering what he'd done wrong the first time. He leveled her with a serious expression. "I can do it." He said. And he could. He could do better this time. "Otherwise it'll pick off more kids." And Dean didn't want to be responsible for that. Not if could do something to stop it.

Mary turned back. She looked at him like she didn't know what to think. Or like he'd said the exact wrong thing – which he probably had.

"I can do better tonight than yesterday." He told her.

She stared at him for a moment. And he must have really said the wrong thing this time because her face crumpled and she took in a shaky breath.

She sat beside him on the bed. "You did fine sweetie. But you're hurt and you're too young."

Dean wasn't convinced. It must've showed on his face.

"Those are the only reasons." She smiled as him. "And you need to stay with Sam."

The door rattled and John lumbered in a minute later, carrying two big bags from Lucky's Diner. He and Mary exchanged hard glances. "I brought dinner." He said.

Dean scratched his head. His eyes wandered to clock beside the bed. It was set to four-thirty. "It's afternoon?" He said, his throat feeling dry and scratchy.

Mary stood up and patted his head. "You've been asleep all day. Sam, too."

John frowned. He looked at him disapprovingly, pulled out a huge sandwich, and pushed it at him. "Eat it, Dean. All of it." He said.

Dean considered hiding most of it for later. John kept watching him, though, taking in every detail. He took a big bite.

Satisfied, John turned, rummaged in the bags they'd brought back the night before, and pulled out orange juice. "We'll need to set up soon. I'm hoping we can catch this thing as soon as it gets dark." He put the bottle on the table beside Dean. "Drink it."

Dean wiped the crumbs from his mouth. He was about halfway through the first half of the sandwich and his stomach was starting to protest. "Why wait until then?" He asked partially because he was curious and partially because he didn't think he could eat anymore. The burgers he and Sam had yesterday were the biggest meal he'd had in awhile and still sat heavy in his stomach.

"Harpy's are nocturnal." Mary said. "John and I believe we know where it's nesting. We'll either catch it there tonight or we'll destroy the nest and get it to seek us out. Either way, we should be able to get the job done."

Dean frowned. "That sounds complicated."

"It'd be easier if we could draw out the monster another way." John said, looking at Mary. He turned back to Dean. "Drink some juice." He said.

Dean picked up the bottle. He took his time twisting off the cap. "I…um…I can play-" He glanced between John and Mary. He didn't know what the hell they wanted. "If you want me to I can play bait." He took a sip. And he took another. This was good tasting stuff.

"That's not necessary." Mary sat between him and John. "This plan will work." She said.

"And if it doesn't work." John said. "We're trying it my way tomorrow."

Mary didn't answer, but Dean got the impression if it didn't work there'd be more discussion tomorrow. Sam awoke in the brief silence following. He rubbed his eyes, emerged from under the covers, and sat close to Dean. Dean could tell his brother wasn't comfortable with the adults in the room.

John rummaged in the diner bag and pulled out another huge sandwich. He thrust it at Sam. "Eat." He said. "You too, Dean."

Dean gulped down more of the juice and left his sandwich in his lap. But that seemed to pacify John. And it was really, really good juice. The best thing he'd had in twenty-seven days. Maybe more.

Sam sniffed at the sandwich, took a small bite, and put in on the nightstand. "I'm not hungry." He said.

John raised an eyebrow. "You need to eat, Sam." He said.

Sam shrugged. He pushed the sandwich further away. John's face twitched in irritation. He grabbed another bottle orange juice from the bag and held it out to Sam.

Dean watched, halfway concerned, halfway curious, to see what would happen. Sam hated orange juice. And Sam was stubborn as hell. And while adults tended to fawn over Sam; the adoration had never worked both ways.

"Then drink some juice. It's good for you." John said.

Sam glared at the juice. He crossed his arms and shook his head no.

John's lips tightened. He looked upset. Angry. Dean pulled Sam closer.

"I don't want any either." Dean threw his sandwich beside Sam's. His tightened his grip on the bottle in his hand. The juice wasn't that great anyway. He set it on the nightstand with a hard plop.

"Is that so?" John said.

Dean bristled, nervous energy running through him. "Yeah. That's so." He smirked, his natural smirk that always pissed people off and waited.

Mary patted Dean's knee and stood up. "You're scaring them, John." She said to him in a soft voice.

John frowned, staring at her dumbly. Finally he turned back to them and rubbed his stubble. "Well what do you like then?"

"Huh?" Dean blinked at him.

John let out an exasperated puff of air and spoke slower than before. "You don't want the orange juice or the sandwiches. What do you want to eat and drink?"

"Um." Dean wasn't sure what to say. "Sammy likes Gatorade. The pink kind."

"And cereal." Sam added, peeking around Dean. "In a new box." Sam glared at John.

"Alright." He said. "And whatta 'bout you?"

"Whatta 'bout me?" Dean said defensively.

Mary laid a bag of weapons on the floor by the door and smiled. "What do like to eat, hon?"

"Oh." Dean grabbed the juice and twisted it in his grip. He felt suddenly uncomfortable with everyone's attention on him. "I'll drink the juice." He said. He felt Sam huff from beside him.

"Dean likes cereal too." Sam said. "And any Gatorade that's not pink or girly blue."

That seemed to amuse John. "I'll try to remember that." He turned to Mary. "We got everything?"

Mary nodded. "Stay in the room. You two will be safe here."

John reached into the bag and pulled out a fancy looking walkie talkie. "We need to keep radio silence so keep it turned off unless there's trouble. Anything happens call us on channel seven. I'll show you how it works." He gave them both a quick lesson.

Mary seemed reluctant to leave, but she walked out the door before John. He turned back.

"Remember, that's not a toy. But if you need to, you call." He motioned to the bags. "There's more food if you get hungry. Keep the door locked." He walked out and shut it.

***

Sam was glad when they left. He hopped off the bed and threw the dead bolt. "You said don't trust anyone, Dean. Why do you trust them?"

"Cause they're our parents, Sam." Dean got up and rummaged in the bag. "Chips?"

Sam's stomach grumbled. "We've had lots of parents. You weren't that way with any of them." He grabbed the bag and tore it open.

"That was different."

"How?" Sam said.

"Because Mary and John kick ass. And they're our _actual_ parents. Not freaks after a monthly check or crazies who want to foster twelve kids."

That wasn't fair. Sam felt anger heat his cheeks. "They weren't all like that, Dean." He crunched a chip loudly. "Jackie was nice."

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the juice. "For the two months before she drug us back to the social worker."

Sam knew he shouldn't say anything else. They hadn't talked about it. But Sam didn't feel good. He was tired and sore and he'd never held back his opinions much anyway. "Frank and Beatrice were different."

Dean's mouth flattened out into a thin line. "Yeah, Sammy. They were crazies fostered…" He made a show of counting his fingers. "Six…Seven kids. Real different."

"Well they wanted to adopt me. You're just jealous." Sam said. He regretted it the moment it left his lips. Dean's face went pale with hurt.

"Well they're dead, Sam. So get over it." Dean bit out. "You still want parents, Mary and John are the best bet you've got."

Sam threw the chips on the floor. He was going to punch stupid Dean in his stupid face. He sneezed before he raised a fist. "I hate you!" His eyes began to water and he rubbed them to stop the tears. "And I don't like John."

Sam didn't wait for Dean to respond. He ran to the bathroom, locked it, and cried in there away from his jerk brother. And the crying was made all the worse by his cold. It kept making his nose run and his throat itch. Twenty minutes later Sam was hacking into some toilet paper. His brother knocked on the door.

"Sam?" Dean knocked again. "C'mon Sam, come out."

Sam heard him sigh.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Dean said. "You know I liked Frank and Beatrice. They were like the oldest people I've ever known. And Beatrice made pie like everyday."

Sam opened the door. "They wanted to adopt you too."

"Yeah. Sure they did." Dean said smiling.

Sam didn't know what was wrong with his brother sometimes. They were going to adopt them both. Sam was sure of it. "Really, Dean." He said.

Dean pursed his lips. He waved around the space. "Come on out. Enjoy the room. It's an upgrade from the Ford. You wanna watch tv or something."

Sam wanted a shower. And he wanted to crawl in bed. And he wanted to eat that entire sandwich John had given him. "I left Frank's coin collection in the car. I left everything when we ran. My jacket. My books."

"We can get it all later, Sam." Dean paused. "Your books?"

"I don't wanna get behind." He shuffled on his feet. "Frank gave me those coins for my birthday. He said they were special. Someone's gonna find them out there."

"Mary said to stay in the room." Dean looked at the door uncertainly. "And I don't wanna run into another harpy without them around."

"She said it was nocturnal. It won't be dark for another hour, Dean."

"I thought you were sleeping?"

"I was pretending." Sam felt his bottom lip tremble. He tried to hide it, but he knew Dean noticed. "Frank gave me the coins for my birthday. I promised to take care of them. And then he died 'cause the monster was after me."

"You don't know the monster was there after you." Dean said. "It wasn't your fault, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes and sniffled. The monster was definitely after him. That was obvious. And now Frank and Beatrice were dead. All Sam had left of them were those coins. "Please." Sam said. "We'll grab our stuff and get back long before dark. Mary and John won't even know we went out." Not that Sam cared too much what the two of them thought. They weren't in charge of him and Dean. And Sam wasn't going to get attached to them. No way.

Dean frowned and glanced at the door again. "Yeah. Okay, Sammy." He grinned. Dean grabbed the walkie talkie and stuffed it in between his shirts. "But I don't wanna be out after dark."

Sam snorted. Dean wanted to be back before the adults got back. That was all.

"Okay."

Dean scratched his head and flipped the dead bolt. "I'll have to leave it unlocked. Let's hurry."

It only took about three minutes to get to the rusted Ford. Dean seemed jumpy. He kept walking to close to Sam and clutching at the walkie talkie tucked in his shirt. The door was open and Sam saw the few clothes he'd brought when they'd run away scattered on the ground.

"Shit." Dean said. He picked up Sam's science book with one hand. Water dripped off the pages and ran dark with ink from the book. "This stuff is all messed up." His expression turned angry. He dropped the book and grabbed a ripped black t-shirt. "All of my clothes are fuckin' ruined." Dean wadded it up and tossed it against the alley brick. "You see the coin case."

Sam didn't see it on the ground. But he'd kept it hidden. He took a deep breath and crawled into the front seat, brushing glass off the upholstery. He reached up under the seat and felt for the box. His hands brushed the leather case. "Dean!" He popped up, grinning. "I found it." Sam tucked it in between his shirts like he'd seen his brother do with the walkie talkie.

Dean waved. "Great. Now hurry the hell up." He said, glancing around the alleyway.

Sam backed out. He kept his eyes down on the seat. The bird monster had broken into the driver's side window. Sam didn't want to see that hole. "Ow." A stray glass shard lodged itself in his hand. He pulled it out and looked back down at the seat. Something dark had stained it. He pushed his hand through the dry, tacky mess. Blood. It was blood. His eyes wandered back to his brother. Dean impatiently motioned for him to hurry. His jeans were still dark from where the harpy had cut him.

Not just blood, then. Dean's blood. Sam pulled his hand away. He jumped out and ran over to him. "I got it. I'm ready to go." He said. "Let's go."

Dean's expression twitched in concern. "You alright, Sammy?"

Sam nodded and stayed close to him as they walked back. Dean held out a hand when they got to the edge of the parking lot.

Sam looked up at him. "What?"

"Room 104, right?"

"Yeah." Sam said.

"Door's open."

Sam peered at the motel. "You left it unlocked." He said.

"But I didn't leave it _open_, Sam."

Dean frowned, a large frown that pulled his whole face. He glanced at the low sun and then back to the open door. "I'm calling them." He said, reaching into his shirts. He pulled out the contraption and flipped it to channel seven.

Dean hesitated.

"I'll do it." Sam told him.

Dean snorted and pushed the talk button. "Uh…John?"


	5. Chapter 5

The walkie talkie buzzed with Dean's uncertain voice. "_John? You guys there?"_

Relief roared through John. "Dean? Where the hell are you?" He released the talk button.

_"We're in the parking lot, but the door to the room is open and-"_

The parking lot? John didn't wait for him to finish. The motel room was in shambles – the sheets shredded, the television broken, sulfur lining the doors and windows, pushing out the protective salt lines John had carefully laid. All signs of a serious problem. He walked out the motel door at a quick pace.

They were standing on the edge of the asphalt, huddled together. Dean's eyes widened when he saw him. John didn't want to spook the kids so he didn't run to them. But he moved at his fastest gait and mentally made a plan. He'd load the boys in the car. He'd collect Mary from the side street where she was frantically searching for them. And they'd get them the hell out of town.

Dean stepped back as he approached. For the first time since the kid had decided they were related he looked at John with apprehension in his features. John cursed. He tried to soften his expression.

"Are you alright?" John demanded, breathless and concerned. He tucked his hand under Sam's chin and inspected him. His cheeks were still flushed and his skin damp with stale sweat.

Sam wriggled free and narrowed his gaze. "We're fine." He said stepping in front of his brother.

John considered Dean for a moment. Mary was right, he was pale. There was no color in his face at all. He was favoring his injured leg and his clothes hung off his shoulders in long, loose folds. The boy stared back at him.

"You know, if you take a picture, it'll last you longer." Dean's face twitched on the last word – like he hadn't meant to say it, like he was inwardly kicking himself. "Um…Sir." He added at the end with an uncomfortable grin.

"Alright." He exhaled slowly, calming himself down. There'd be time to get them healthy later. He pulled out his keys. "In the backseat." John said, herding them towards the Impala.

Sam clutched at something under his shirt. John resisted the urge to demand to see what it was. Right now they had to move.

"Why?" Sam said. "Did something get in the room?"

John ignored him and unlocked the door, his eyes darting around the lot. "Get in."

"Where's Mary?" Sam said, stopping.

"She's been out looking for you. We'll pick her up around the block. Now get in." John said. "We need to go."

"I don't know you." Sam tugged on his brother's arm, eying John with uncertainty.

Dean looked down at his brother and bit his lip. "What's going on, John?" He stepped back, away from the car. "I thought you were hunting the harpy?"

John was glad they were being more cautious. There might be hope for them yet. But, right now, he needed them to do as they were told. He battled away the urge to manhandle them into the car.

"Harpy's Dead." John told them. It was already dead when they'd scouted the nest – a messy, bloody heap of bones and feathers. Torn apart in a way no human could have managed. They didn't need to know the details though. "We burnt it, came back, and found the room trashed and you two gone." He surveyed the lot again. "It's not safe here. We need to go."

Dean rubbed at his arm thoughtfully – the same exact place John had cut him. "We should wait for Mary." He said taking another step back. "I mean, she's your partner, right?"

Huh. Dean was testing him. How 'bout that. A few hours shuteye and the boy got a lot sharper. "She's my wife, son." He pulled out his knife. "Here." He cut a thin slice down the meaty part of his forearm. "No reaction." Although iron would be more effective for the nasties he was currently worried about. John sighed, he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Listen, Dean, you boys are in deep here. You gotta trust someone. And you're out of options. It's me or the street. Now get in the car." He sure as hell didn't want them trusting just anyone. But he wanted them to trust him.

Sam glanced up at his brother. Dean hesitated; his face weary and thoughtful. He looked down at Sam. His eyes wandered to where the smaller boy was holding the something beneath his clothes. John could see the moment Dean made a decision. His expression became set, pained, like whatever he'd decided physically hurt. John half expected him to refuse to go; half expected him to start yelling for help. But he didn't do either of things.

"Why do you wanna help us?" Dean said. There was something odd in his tone. Like the question was loaded with dynamite. Like the wrong answer would blow up and damage them all.

John didn't know what this was about. But he knew he didn't have time for it. He spotted a couple across the parking lot. They looked normal. But looking normal meant nothing. He moved closer to the kids. Dean stepped back out of reach. John had faith he could grab them both if he needed to do it, but he didn't want to force them unless it became necessary. "We need to go, Dean. It's dangerous here."

Dean's gaze moved to the couple as they entered a door by the corner. His brow crinkled in worry, but his eyes remained firm. "No. A-Answer the question first."

"We don't have time for this crap." John felt his patience waning. It wasn't like he had a deep well of it to start with. He pulled a smile. "It's my job, kid. Now get in the damn car."

Apparently it wasn't the right answer. Dean didn't move. But he didn't try to walk away so it wasn't completely off the mark. Sam pulled his head back and blinked up at his brother as confused as John was. He glared at John when he noticed him watching.

"And after?" Dean said in a quiet voice.

"After what?" His voice came out loud; frustrated.

"After you deal with the monster." Dean's tone came out harsh, demanding. "What're you gonna do with us then?"

Sam's face opened in understanding. Well, at least, one of them had figured out what the hell was up with Dean.

"Yeah." Sam said. "What are you gonna do with us then?"

Where was Mary when he needed her? John rubbed his hand over his chin, leveling his gaze at them. They were kids. He was faster and stronger. He could grab them; toss their stubborn asses into the car.

"I don't know." John growled at them. What they hell were they gonna do with a teenager and a grade-schooler. "I guess we'll have to send your disobedient asses to school." Maybe the schools could teach them some sense. "Now get in the car or I'm putting you in the car. And trust me, boys." He continued low and dangerous. "The former's the better option."

"School?" Dean said, the tightness in his face softening with relief. "Ugh." He nodded Sam towards the car.

"I like school." Sam said. He grinned at John sweetly. "I always get straight A's." Then he seemed to remember who he was talking to and clamped his mouth shut.

John opened the door and ushered them inside. He wasn't entirely sure what had changed their minds. But in the future, they better learn to do what they were told. Settling in the driver's seat, he turned back to them.

Dean caught his eyes. "We didn't trash the room." He said.

"I know." John said.

Dean looked toward the motel and then back to the front. "We went…we went to grab our things. They were all trashed too."

John clenched his jaw. It was stupid. Them leaving the room. Lucky in this case. But still stupid. "The room should've been safe. Leaving it wasn't." He grumbled. "You're lucky." He wanted to say more. Tell them exactly how stupid they'd been, but that could wait. He didn't want them trying to jump back out.

Dean wobbled a shaky grin over his face. "Better lucky than smart, huh?"

John turned to the front and started the engine. That didn't deserve an answer.

Sam's high voice rung out. "Was it the harpy?" He asked. "The thing that got into the room."

John pulled out of the lot. Mary said she would search for them around the shelter. He turned left. He glanced back at Sam. Damn that kid asked a lot of questions.

"No, Sam." John glanced in the rearview. "It was something worse."

Sam nodded and stared at the window.

"Don't worry, Sammy." Dean caught John's eyes. "We're safe as long as we're with John. Right?"

Sam turned back towards him. Both of them waited. And what was John supposed to say to that. It wasn't true. They weren't safe. No one was. Not with all the evil that hid out there in the dark.

"There's Mary." Sam said pointing past Dean and to a blond figure near the curb. There was relief hidden deep in his tone. John felt a pang of envy at that.

Dean caught John's eyes once more. He was still waiting for an answer. John took in a deep breath. The boy was ready to walk away with his brother and take his chances on the streets five minutes ago and now he wanted promises of safety? John had no idea what was going through his head. And John knew safety was illusion. There was prepared. There was ready. But safe? That didn't exist. That's what the boys needed to know to survive.

John squeezed the wheel tighter. "Yeah. You're safe with me." He said. "I won't let anything happen to either of you." If time made him a liar – well – it wouldn't be first time.

Sam visibly relaxed beside his brother. Dean smiled at him, a small, grateful smile, and John realized he already knew there was no such thing as safe. John frowned and honked three times. The signal for all is well. Mary turned and squinted at the car against the fading daylight. Catching sight of the figures in the back seat, she ran to the passenger side and climbed inside the car.

"Are they alright?" She turned to the backseat immediately.

"Mostly." John said. "We'll head south, out of town." He told her, but Mary wasn't listening to him. All her attention was focused on the boys. He glanced one more time in the rearview at them and sped out towards the highway.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Dean leaned back against the seat. Part of him wanted to sink down against the upholstery, shut his eyes, and sleep and sleep and then sleep some more. But he couldn't do that yet. Not until he knew he and Sam were safe. He couldn't let himself relax. There was too much at stake right now. He glanced out the window and watched the run-down buildings give way to the wider roads of the nicer part of town.

"Are you sure you're both alright." Mary said for the third time.

"We're fine." Dean said. He glanced at John. His wide shoulders were tense and his muscles looked tight enough to snap. And he was driving fast. Dean felt a pang of apprehension – the same deep-seated worry that had subtly been replacing the hope he'd felt when he'd realized that John and Mary were his folks. He shook it off and centered himself.

This was best for his brother. It was definitely better than freezing and starving in a rusted out Ford. And John said he'd enroll them in school. Which kinda sucked. But also meant he planned on keeping them. His insides flip-flopped again. Of course, John had no idea what a pain in the ass they could be. He might still change his mind.

Dean sucked in a breath. But John and Mary were their parents. Dean was sure of it. And, okay, they weren't quite like he remembered them. The dad he remembered had been a lot gentler and the mom he knew seemed to like him as much as she liked Sammy. He looked at Mary's concerned face again. But she was their mom. And John was their dad.

He shuddered again with pangs of worry. Just because they were related didn't necessary mean that John and Mary were _safe_. He'd meant plenty of kids whose parents were anything but. Hell, John and Mary had lost them for ten years. Ten damn years. And they hadn't even found them. Or recognized them. Or anything. That'd all been on Dean. How did he know they even really wanted them back? Maybe they just felt guilty. Maybe they'd lose them again. Maybe they'd send them back into the system the first chance they got.

Mary reached back across the seat and put her palm to Sam's forehead. His brother must have felt worse then he'd let on because it took Sam almost five seconds to bat her away. Dean sank further against the door and watched. She certainly seemed to care. Well. About Sam anyway.

"You still have a fever." She said, brow crinkling in concern. "Why don't you rest, Sam. It'll be a few hours before it's safe to stop."

Dean straightened up in the seat, tensing so fast the wound on his leg pulled painfully. A few hours? Where the hell were they going, South America? He rubbed at the torn denim to ease the ache. He'd thought they were just going to rocket over to the suburbs for a heart to heart and a better motel room.

"I'm thinking maybe San Antonio or one of the border towns." John's deep voice rang out from the front.

Mary pulled her eyes off Sam to consider it. "There's a cabin in New Mexico. Just outside of Carlsbad. It's protected." She said. "We could hold up there for a few days."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean New Mex-" He started, but neither of them seemed to be listening to him.

"West then." John said, cutting him off and maneuvering the car to the highway.

"No." Dean said. They didn't get to waltz in after all these years and suddenly drag them across the country. "Wait a damn minute." He said garnering both their attentions.

Mary turned back and John's eyes watched him heavily in the mirror.

Dean smiled and tried to pull his tone back to calm, respectful, and reasonable. "I get leaving the shady, monster-infested part of town, I do, but you wanna leave the state?" Dean said. "You didn't say that."

Mary frowned at him. "It's dangerous here. We need to get as far away as possible." She handed him John's jacket. "You can use it as a blanket." Dean swatted it away and the leather fell to the floorboard in a heap. Mary reached over the seat towards him. Dean shifted away. She pulled back and contemplated him like he was some sort of cornered wild thing.

"Sweetie, why don't you get some rest?" She said finally. Her gaze fell to Sam. "You too, Sam. You can stretch out on the seat."

Dean crossed his arms. "Sammy and me didn't sign up for a family road trip just yet." He said, wincing at his biting tone. He continued, trying to put calm back into his voice. "Why don't we just get a room outside of town?" He wanted them to like him. Hell, who was he kidding, he wanted them to keep him. But he didn't want them moving him and Sam to some cabin out in the middle of nowhere. They could still be freaks. Dean had been wrong about people before.

"Um…" Sam sat up, responding to the words with alarm. He eyed Mary carefully. "We're going to New Mexico now? Why?" He lifted an eyebrow and caught his brother's eyes.

"We need to get out of town." Mary said. "It's not-"

Dean snorted and the effort he was putting into being a good, respectful kid crumbled. "It was plenty safe until two days ago." He said. "Nothing bothered us here until you showed up." It came out loud and mean. "Sam and I aren't going with you to friggin' New Mexico." His glanced down to the door handle. John would have to slow down sooner or later and then he and his brother could just jump out until John and Mary agreed to go somewhere closer.

Mary gazed at him for a moment. "Honey, listen-"

That was about all Dean could take. "That's not my name!"

"Dean!" John glanced back. "That's enough. Now stop." He turned back towards the front.

Dean glared at the back of his head. This was bullshit. Bullshit. "Seriously? What're you gonna do?" Dean said. "Turn the car around? 'Cause I'm starting to think I got no problem with that." He put as much disrespect and anger as he could into his next word. "Sir_." _He said.

John's shoulders tightened further. "Your brother's sick, Dean. And you're not much better." John said. "You're coming to New Mexico and that's that."

"Like hell I'm going to New Mexico." Dean told him low and angry. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Mary, Sam and I are going to New Mexico, Dean." John said and whoa did he sound pissed. "You wanna stay with this family, you're coming too."

"So now we're family?"

"You've been trying to convince me of that since we met, kid." John growled out. "So what the hell is your problem?"

"New Mexico is my problem. Sir." He said, smiling when he heard John's exasperated huff from the front. John could be a pretty scary S.O.B. And he was a freakin' giant. But Dean was too angry to care about upsetting him. "And Sam's my only family."

The exchange served to wake Sam further from his daze. He rubbed his eyes and shifted his gaze between the front seat and Dean.

"John, calm down." Mary said. But she frowned at Dean like she was speaking to him instead.

"No." John said. "I want to know what's got the boy all riled up. 'Cause I'm not putting up with his attitude much longer."

Sam's eyes widened. "I'm staying with my brother." Sam said in a quiet but firm tone. Dean heard the underlying fear in his words. "I'm staying with my brother." He repeated. "You're not separating us."

"No one's being separated." Mary cleared her throat and caught Dean's eyes. "What's the problem, Dean?"

"You're the problem." Dean said, low and mean and intended to hurt. "You didn't recognize me. You didn't ever look for us, did you?"

Mary paled. "Dean, you know we didn't know-"

"You should have."

"Dean…" John warned from the front.

Dean knew he was pushing too far. John had a temper. That much was obvious. Well screw him. If things were going to get rough, he wanted to find out now, not weeks down the road after he and Sammy thought they could trust him.

"You cut me with the knife." And for some reason that suddenly hurt him deep inside, much worse than the actual wound. Dean's mind wandered back to when they'd met. "And you pushed me against that wall." He felt his cheeks heating. In the back of his mind, he told himself to shut up already. He wanted to stay with them, he really did, but he couldn't get his mouth to get on board with that. "The only reason you care at all is because now you're starting to believe I'm your kid. If I wasn't, you'd have left me on the street."

"With this attitude, I might just throw you back there anyway." John snapped.

"Enough!" Mary held up her palms. "Stop the car."

John slowed the car down and pulled towards the shoulder. Dean's hand began shaking. He tucked it under his arm so no one would notice. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. They were going to leave him on the side of the road. Dean hugged his arms tight to his chest. It was either alone on the streets or with them in some secluded cabin. The cabin didn't sound that bad. Not really. And New Mexico was probably nice this time of year.

"Fine." Dean heard his voice crack. His stomach churned. "Fine. We'll go with you to New Mexico." He looked down at the floorboard and wished he'd taken the jacket. It looked warm, especially if they were throwing him out. "I got nowhere better to be. So." He shifted in the seat, feeling Mary's contemplative eyes watching him. The car slowed further bumping on the rough asphalt. Dean inhaled through his nose and looked at her. "I'm sorry, okay. I'll go with you. I wanna go, alright." He caught John's eyes. "I'm sorry." Dean wished he couldn't hear the desperation in his voice. "I'll go with you. Please. Okay."

John stopped the car and turned around. "You're damned right you're going with us."

"And I'm going wherever my brother goes." Sam said whispered voice.

Dean glanced at Sam. His brother's fevered eyes were taking in every detail now. And Dean knew Sam was thinking about the two times they'd tried to put them in separate homes. Sam had been so afraid then and Dean saw the same fear rushing under his quiet words now.

Dean pulled out a last shred of bravery. "And Sam and I stay together. No matter what." Dean said and Sam calmed down a fraction. But as Dean said it, he guiltily wondered if Sam would be better off with John and Mary, even if they decided to ditch Dean along the way.

Mary rubbed her temple like her head pounded. "You're both coming with us. We have to protect you." Mary said sounding desperate. "You have to stay with us now. It's not safe out there. For either of you."

She opened the door, stepped outside, and walked back to his door and opened it. Her blond hair fell in front of her as she stared down at him. And even though they'd both said they were taking him with them, Dean wondered if he'd blown it, if she was going to pull him out of the car and jump inside so they could zoom away before Sammy could get out too. People were tricky like that sometimes. He kept his eyes down. He shouldn't have said anything. He should've kept his big mouth closed and no one would be upset.

Mary put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, baby." She leaned over him. "I'm going to ride in the back with you two." She kept her hand on his shoulder as she squeezed between him and Sam on the seat. She reached across, pulled the door shut, and locked it. Dean kept quiet.

***

Mary put one arm around Sam and one arm around Dean. Sam fidgeted and Mary had the distinct impression he'd prefer to sit beside his brother.

"We good?" John asked, twisting around and watching them.

Now that she had her arm around him, she could feel Dean trembling. She glanced at Dean and then to John and shook her head in a subtle no. "Let's go." She said.

John looked like he wanted to climb into the backseat too. But he nodded and started the engine.

"Dean, it's alright. You need to relax now." She said.

He didn't say anything. If anything, he seemed to become more anxious. Sam leaned across her and glanced worriedly at Dean. Mary closed her eyes and took in a calming breath. Both the boys needed rest. She looked up. John kept glancing at them in the rearview mirror.

"Dean?" She said making sure to use his name as much as possible. "We're not leaving you." She pulled at his shoulder so she could see his face. "Do you understand?"

He nodded, but wouldn't meet her gaze. "Yes ma'am." He said not sounding convinced at all.

"You and Sam should both rest, okay?" She said. "We'll wake you when we stop."

"Yes ma'am." He said again. He leaned away from her against the window, muscles still stressed, shoulders still shaking.

She kept her arm around his shoulder, but it was awkward with him leaning the other way. "You too, Sam." She said in her gentlest tone.

Sam looked at his brother and his smooth brow furrowed in concern. He jerked away from her, shuffled toward the other window and slumped against it. She felt thoroughly rejected. For many long minutes she sat there in the middle, not knowing what to do, wondering if she should have stayed in the passenger seat.

Dean fought sleep for awhile, but he was too wiped out to win. She felt his thin frame finally relax into an uneasy slumber beside her. And Sam was too sick to stay awake very long. He succumbed with his head uncomfortably pressed against the door and his mouth hanging wide open. After a few more miles, Sam shifted in his sleep until his head was on her lap and his feet were curled up on the bench. His shirt fell open and she saw he had his hand protectively clutched around a leather binder. She pulled the shirt back down over it.

Dean was still plastered against the door, as far from her as possible. She wanted to have them close. Both of them. Mary used the arm she had around him to pull him slowly back to her until he was resting against her shoulder. There. Much better.

"Don't wake them." John said quietly and disapprovingly from the front. "They need to rest, Mary."

Mary narrowed her eyes at him and didn't respond. She looked down at Dean's leg. The rip in his jeans was fraying more. "You need to check his leg when we stop." She sighed. "If he'll let you."

"Oh he'll let me." John said.

"Don't force him, John." She looked down, making sure he was asleep. "If they're our kids, they need to know they can trust us." She pushed Sam's damp hair off his forehead. "Even if they're not." She cut off that thought. She needed to believe they were hers. But she and John would help them either way. She wouldn't abandon them. She promised.

"My number one priority is his health and safety. His feelings are a distant number two. I'm checking the leg. And the rest of him." He was quiet for a moment as they zoomed around a semi. He caught her eyes. "I made some calls." He said.

Mary arched her brows. "When?"

"When I went for dinner while the two of them were zonked out in the motel."

Mary's breath caught. "And?"

"I didn't find out much." He said. "But a couple, Frank and Beatrice Reynolds, put in applications adopt a 'Sam Winchester' and a 'Dean Winchester' six weeks ago."

Mary let the information settle. "You think they're our kids too." She said.

John spoke evenly. "Seems more and more likely. My source is credible. He's searching for more info on the boys." He glanced in the mirror at her again. "They still asleep?"

Mary hugged Dean tighter and rested her palm against Sam's cheek. "I'm not sure I could wake them if I tried." Images of family dinners and birthdays and Christmases started to dance through her head. She smiled, but it waned as she glanced down at Dean's ripped jeans. They were worn. And filthy. "Do they have any other clothes?" She said. Neither of them had changed since they'd met.

"I didn't have to load any luggage in the trunk, if that's what you're asking."

Sam's jeans were thin too. And neither of the kids looked that clean. Mary realized she was a terrible mother. The kind that couldn't even keep her boys bathed. "We need to get them some clothes. And a shower. And we need to think about settling-"

"They're dead." John said.

"What?"

"The couple." John said. "They're dead. We need to find out what the boys know. Especially-" He took a breath. "Especially with the demonic signs at the motel room. They're in danger, Mary."

Mary pulled them closer. "We'll protect them."

"We need to know what they know."

Mary laid her head against Dean's spiky hair. "I suppose so." She relented. "Just ask them nicely, John. Don't bully them. They're scared."

"I'm always nice." He said. "But if it comes down to me scaring them or me keeping them safe, like I said, I'm always going to choose to keep them safe."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was surprised to awake in New Mexico – many miles and two states away from the city. His head felt clear as he climbed out of the car and stood in the cool, dark air. And he wasn't so hot. He kicked a rock with his foot as Mary got out and stood beside him. It seemed like Dean and him were staying with her and John for a while.

He glanced at the cabin and decided it was time to evaluate everything. There were several criteria he used to judge the places they lived. It was a qualitative way of determining which places were better and which places were worse. Everything got a score from one to ten in five categories, with ten being highest score.

1. _Bedroom_ – Were there bedrooms? If so, did he get his own or did he have to share with Dean?

2. _TV_ – Was there one he got to watch? One in the house he wasn't allowed to touch was not considered a real tv. Also the size and quality of the television affected the score.

3. _Smell_ – Did the place smell like garbage, urine, or cats? All of these led to a low grade.

4. _Food_ – Was there food most of the time? (Food stolen by Dean did not count!)

5. _Parents_ – Sam had a complete sub-list for this one and he added things to it constantly. Depending on how the adults behaved he awarded them plus points and minus points. The main parameters included: Did they ever hit or get rough? Yell? Did they take good care of him and Dean when they were sick? Did they fight with each other? Lock anyone in the closet? Make really good pies? Remember his and Dean's names? There was more. It was a long sub-list.

"Sam? You alright?" Mary pulled Sam from his thoughts and the bags from the trunk. She waved at the cabin. "It's nicer on the inside. There're two bedrooms. Not to mention hot water. And a little kitchen."

He peered at it. Well. It had bedrooms. That put it ahead of the rusted out Ford. "Can I look around?" He said taking in the trails leading away from the clearing. He heard a creek nearby.

"It's late. You and Dean should rest some more."

"I'm not tired anymore." The stars above had begun to fade with morning. "It'll be light soon." He smiled at her. "And Dean can come with me."

Mary frowned.

Dean was leaning against the car resting his eyes. He looked up. "Huh?" He said. "Oh. Yeah. I'll go with the kid." Catching her expression he added, "We'll stay close. Cross my heart."

Her gaze wandered down to Dean's hurt leg and her frown deepened.

"All's clear." John emerged from the front door and came down to grab the bags from her.

"I tell you what." Mary motioned them towards the cabin. "You and Dean get cleaned up and changed, and then I'll take you around the area if you want to go, Sam."

"I can't change." Sam trudged towards the door. "All my other clothes got shredded." He said. "And all of Dean's."

"Don't worry, Sam." She said. "John can loan you both some clothes. Alright?"

"I guess." Sam said. He did kinda want a shower. They'd been cleaning up in the McDonald's bathroom for the last two weeks.

Dean limped up beside him and nudged him in the ribs. "Hey…Mary?" He said. "This place got a tv?"

"Hmm…" She ushered them inside the door. "Over there." The room inside was rustic with a worn couch and a small television in the corner. A very small television.

"And…uh…can Sammy and I watch it?"

She smiled. "Of course, Dean. All you want." Her gaze wandered back out the door. "I don't know if you'll get anything to come in though."

Dean leaned down. "See, Sam." He whispered. "You can already add some points to number two."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Only it there's good reception." He said. A television that did not come in did not count. Period. Dean knew that.

The cabin smelled like the rocky terrain outside of it; an earthy scent made of wood and rain. Sam reluctantly scored it high for smelling good and followed Mary to a back bedroom. It was a small space with twin beds and a nightstand. She gave them each a pile of sweat clothes, showed them the shower, and then stood in the doorway looking like she didn't want to leave.

"Thanks." Sam said so she would go already. If she kept hovering over them, Sam was docking a point from her tally.

"Right." She said. "We'll be in the other room if you need us." She closed the door softly.

Dean hobbled towards the bed by the window. "Nice room, eh?" He said.

"I'm giving it a seven." He'd seen better.

Dean laughed and sank down on the mattress. "You shower first, Sammy. I'm gonna rest a little longer." He closed his eyes. "How're you ranking John and Mary so far?" He said, cracking one lid back open. There was an edge of nervousness in his tone. Dean always got a little uneasy with new parents – especially ones he liked.

Sam shrugged. "I'm still figuring them out." He said. "Right now, Mary has a four and John has a six."

Dean lifted his head up and caught Sam's eyes. "Mary's lower than John?" He sounded surprised. "I thought you liked her better than him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's not about which one I like better, Dean, it's about the list. Besides, I went ahead and gave him a point for his car 'cause I know you'd make me anyway." He told him. "And Mary's gone up since she figured out your name. She started closer to three."

"Hmm." Dean sank back down. "She's tried to take care of you, you know, while you haven't felt good."

Sam considered that for a moment. "Fine. I'll give her another half point then. But that's all. You were already taking care of me. So she doesn't get full credit."

"Dude." Dean sounded amused. "You are such a little hard ass sometimes."

Sam headed into the bathroom. "The same rules apply to them as everyone else." That was necessary or the list wasn't useful. Sam gazed at his brother's prone form. He hadn't told Dean…but…well…while they were living in the car they hadn't had parents, so Sam had been forced to rank Dean by proxy as he was oldest and claimed to be in charge. He'd ended up with a seven and three quarters. It would have been higher, but Dean lost points for not taking care of himself and being grumpy.

Sam turned on the light in the bathroom. It was nice having it connected to the bedroom. "I'm upping the room to an eight." He heard Dean laughing as he shut the door.

John came in about an hour later; after they'd both showered and changed. He made Dean show him his leg despite Dean's protests and then he rebandaged it. Sam reluctantly gave the man a point for it. It put him higher than he deserved, but rules were rules.

"Mary's making breakfast." John told them. "C'mon. Let's get some food in you boys."

Two things became clear at breakfast. One, Mary was not a good cook. Rice did not belong in tomato soup. If Sam had realized people cooked as bad as her, he'd have given Beatrice double points for her food skills. And, two, breakfast was a ruse to have a long, uncomfortable talk about things neither Sam nor Dean wanted to talk about.

"Just try to eat a little of it, Sam." Mary said.

He pushed his spoon through the red, lumpy mixture. The rice grains reminded him of little grubs squirming in red dirt.

"Sam. It's good, man." Dean said. He held up his empty bowl. "I'll have some more."

Sam raised the spoon tentatively to his mouth. Dean liked it. But Dean ate almost anything. Or maybe eating was his way of avoiding answering the questions. Sam slurped a little bit into his mouth.

Mary watched his reaction, looking anxious. "So…um…how is it?"

It wasn't _that_ bad. Sam's stomach growled. It actually tasted much better than he expected. But that was probably because Sam had been eating convenience store food for the last few weeks.

"It's okay." He mumbled. He'd eat it. But he wasn't giving her points for cooking. Not until she proved herself.

John cleared his throat. "Like I said, we know you were in foster care until a few weeks ago. We need to know what happened." He leveled his gaze at Dean.

"We left." Dean made a show of putting a big spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"You mean you ran away?" He said.

Dean shrugged. "Something like that." He smirked at them.

John's face twitched. Sam ate another spoonful of soup. Dean didn't like talking to adults in the best of times and he didn't do well with confrontation. It was kinda funny to watch, though. John looked stern and Mary looked all concerned. Dean didn't respond well to this bad parent/good parent game. The two of them didn't really know who they were dealing with. Sam bit back a laugh.

Mary shot him a quizzical look. Sam smiled and ate more soup. Eating was a great avoidance tactic. He'd have to remember that. Mary put her hand on Dean's. "You need to tell us." She reached over and placed her other one on Sam's shoulder. "We're trying to understand what happened."

Dean pulled away. "There's nothing to tell. Things got bad and we skedaddled. Found us a nice, rusty Ford to squat in. Then we found you. End of story."

"You were living in a car?" John did not sound happy.

"Well, we weren't living at the Four Seasons." Dean climbed out of his chair. "Um…Sir."

"Dean. Sit down. Answer the question."

Dean paused; then eased back down in the chair. "What do you wanna know, John?" He said it calmly, but he was getting agitated. Sam could tell.

"Did your foster parents treat you well? Was there anything odd about them?"

Dean snorted. He shot Sam a knowing wink. "Depends. Which ones?"

"The ones that were going to adopt you and Sam." John sounded irritated. "Frank and Beatrice Reynolds. You'd been with them for the last year and a half."

Dean's face flashed with a hurt at their names that Sam also felt deep in his chest. Dean recovered first.

"How do you know about-" He started.

"We've been trying to find out what came after you, Dean." Mary leaned across the table. "John's been making calls. We just need information. So we can protect you boys."

Something occurred to Sam. "They were gonna adopt _both_ of us, right? That's what you said you found out." He gave Dean a pointed look. His brother ignored him.

"Whatever." Dean said. "Look. Frank and Beatrice treated us great. Even me. And they freakin' adored Sam, here."

Mary nodded. Her face twisted like puzzle pieces were fitting together inside her head. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned out. "And which ones didn't treat you well?" She said with surprising fury. "And how so?"

Sam expected John to complain they were getting off topic, but his arms were crossed and his gaze was steady and solid.

"Answer your mother, Dean." He said.

Sam slurped more soup and watched the train wreck. He knew Dean was gonna react badly to that statement right away. Dean slumped down in his chair and scowled at the table. He tapped his spoon against his bowl not saying anything at all. The adults looked at each other caught between exasperation and confusion.

Sam sighed. It was a little early to use the mother card even if Dean wanted it to be true. He was freaking out. John and Mary were going hit negative point ranking before breakfast was over. That might be a record.

"Dean?" Mary said.

Dean looked up, grinning and pale. "I'm beat." His brother made a big show of yawning and rubbing his leg like it hurt. "I wanna catch more z's. Can we talk about this later?"

"Dean." Mary's soft tone faltered a bit. "This is important. We need to know what's happened to you boys and why you ran away." Sam could read the frustration on her face. But this wasn't about her.

"You should let him rest." Sam said. The three of them turned to him. Sam sat up straighter and held their gazes. Just 'cause Dean didn't want to talk didn't mean he was lying about being tired. "He doesn't feel good."

Dean didn't wait for them to say more. He limped toward the bedroom. "Soup was great." He said stretching out his arms. "Better than I remem-" He quieted. "It was good." He stopped at the door. "You…uh…coming Sam?" He said. But Sam heard 'Are you okay alone with them?' clear as day.

Sam considered it. "I'm not tired." He said. "Yet." He could handle the adults for now. And…well…Sam could answer their questions as well as his brother. He could do that so Dean didn't have to do it. That was only fair.

Dean hesitated a moment more. He caught Sam's eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Call me if you need anything." He left the door ajar.

John rubbed his hands over his face, sat back, and looked at open space between the door and frame. He put his hands on the table like he was going to walk after him. Sam gave him another minus one for that.

"We ran away because-" Sam took a deep breath. Their attention refocused on him. "Our foster parents, they got killed while we were at school, and-" This was hard. He swirled his spoon through the remains of the soup, watching a stray rice grain stick to its edge. "And Dean thought whatever'd done it was gonna come after us at the group home too."

John sank back into his chair and Mary watched Sam with intense eyes.

"Do you know what it was?" She asked.

"No." Sam said quietly. "But Dean saw what did it. He-" Sam clinked the spoon against the bowl. "He found them. Frank and Beatrice." Sam's voice dropped to a whisper. "They were gonna adopt us and they were waiting 'til Dean's birthday to tell him. It was a surprise. But-" Sam couldn't bring himself to say killed again. "But it happened two days before that."

"What else, Sam?" John said.

Sam didn't like his tone but he answered anyway. "Dean told the police he saw a man with black eyes." He said. "And Dean didn't think he was human."

"Black? Not yellow?" John asked.

"He said black." Sam pushed the bowl away from him. "They didn't believe him, though."

Mary and John exchanged glances. They believed him. Sam was sure of it.

"Sam." Mary seemed to be thinking hard about her next question. "Do you…We thought we lost you boys for good when you were young. Do you know anything about how you ended up in foster care?"

"There was a fire." Sam shrugged. "I was a baby. That's all I know."

"And Dean?" John asked, eying the door again. "Do you think he remembers?"

Sam dropped him another point. "He won't talk about it." Sam said. "So don't ask him." He pushed away from the table. "I'm gonna rest now." He said and he closed the door tight once he got in the bedroom.

Dean was lying down, feigning sleep. "You were chatty." He said after a minute.

"They need to know." Sam hopped up on his bed, looking around the little room and feeling small. "Maybe they can kill the monster that killed Frank and Beatrice." He said quietly. "You said that's what they do."

"Yeah." Dean glanced at him. "You should give them each a point for that - killing monsters."

Sam lay down and contemplated adding monster killing as a parameter. "Yeah. Okay. But only one each."

"One each." Dean agreed. He was quiet for a moment. "They like you, you know."

"Dean." Sam rolled so he was facing him. "They like you, too."

"Well. They used to." Dean sighed. "I'm not little and cute anymore, Sam. It's not so simple with me."

"You're wrong. They like you." Sam said and he couldn't help but be offended. "And I'm not little either, Dean. I'm almost ten."

"Whatever you say, shrimp." He said chuckling. He stopped suddenly. "But you should…you should give 'em a chance, Sam. I know I'm not handling it well, but they're not so bad. Not really."

Sam didn't want to give them any extra chances. But he had to admit, Mary did seem to be trying, even if it was annoying. And John had promised to keep them safe. Both of them. He chewed on his lip. Beatrice and Frank would have wanted him to give them a second chance too. They had believed in second chances.

"Alright." Sam said, feeling his gut clench. "I guess they might get better." He said. "I'll set them both back to five and see how they do from now on. But that's the best I can do, Dean."

"Good. Now shut-up and go to sleep. I wanna wake up in time to eat lunch."


	8. Chapter 8

The boys spent the rest of the day alternating between sleeping and eating. Mary made a run to town after dinner to get them new clothes.

She carried in five large bags when she came back. "The rest is in the car." She set the bags down and waved out the door. "John?" She said. "The car?"

He wasn't sure when he became her damn servant, but it wasn't worth an argument. The boys were finally awake and watching them from the couch. He didn't want to do anything to scare them. He was trying to be nice and non-threatening. He could do nice. He could do non-threatening. At least, until they realized he had no intention of hurting them. Then he wasn't putting up with any crap.

"Fine." He said, standing up.

Dean glanced at the bags. "What's all this?"

"New clothes." Mary pulled out shirts, jeans, socks, and underwear. Three of the bags contained shoe boxes. "John's things are way too big on you. I had to approximate the sizes, but I think everything will fit."

Dean and Sam examined the clothes.

"Um." Dean said. "Thanks." He nudged Sam with his elbow.

"Yeah. Thanks." Sam mumbled.

Mary grabbed a small bag. "Here." She said. "I bought you a few books. Dean mentioned you liked to read and I thought…"

That piqued Sam's interest. He pulled the stack out. "Thank you, Mary." He said. He set the three books for his age group aside and grabbed the thick paperback John knew Mary had bought for herself. "I haven't read this one."

Mary blinked a few times. She adapted quickly. Always had.

"If you like it, I have one by the same author stashed in the trunk."

He nodded and offered her a very reluctant smile. He mumbled something to Dean that sounded like one point.

John couldn't sleep. He poured another glass of the scotch from a bottle he'd found under the sink. The cabin was quiet and all he could think about was how his children had been alive and unprotected for almost ten years and he and Mary should've known. The thought was sobering. He pulled the old rotary phone up to the table and called his friend with the government. He needed more information. The guy picked up.

"_Hello."_

John recognized the voice at once. "Gideon?" But he was surprised the guy answered. He'd intended to leave a loud, demanding message, not talk.

"_John? That you? Where are you? I've got information and I've got to get it to you now. It's about the boys."_

"You're at work? It's the middle of the night." It wasn't that John didn't want the information and want it now, he did, that's why he called. But in his experience government employees didn't work at two in the morning.

"_I know. I've got a watch, John." _Gideon said. "_Where are you? I've got to talk to you."_

"Yeah. Alright." John pulled out his journal. "What did you find out?"

"_Are you listening? I need to talk to you in person. Those boys are in danger. Where are you?"_

Maybe John did need some shuteye. He usually caught on quicker than this. His eyes lingered on the half drunk bottle of liquor. Or maybe he'd had a glass too many.

"Florida. Outside of Tallahassee." He said. The other end was silent for a moment.

"_You ain't in Florida, John. Where are you really?"_

His gut coiled with deep hatred. This wasn't the man he'd spoken to two days ago. This was a man possessed. "Who are you? And like I said. I'll meet you in Tallahassee."

"_I'm just a lonely dreamer, Johnny. And I don't like competition. You know, I haven't heard the name Sam Winchester in almost ten years and now it's popping up everywhere." _It said in Gideon's deep voice._ "That boy of yours ain't quite right, you get that, don't you, John. You're a hunter. Trust me, you should go ahead and put him down. It'd save me the trouble."_

"Keep away from Sam." John squeezed the receiver hard. "Keep away from both of my sons."

"_C'mon, now. I don't care about the other one." _It paused._ "I'll tell you what, though, since you sound like you're getting a soft spot for that little punk – I'll make you a deal. You get rid of little Sammy for me and maybe I'll let Dean live. How 'bout that?"_

"How 'bout I send your sorry ass back to hell."

"_Don't say I didn't try to be reasonable. You know, John, I don't really think you're in Tallahassee. I think you're in New Mexico. Just can't quite pinpoint where."_

John hung up. He stared at the phone. The spells on the cabin would keep them hidden from ritual magic and demons. Unless the demon knew how to trace phone calls, they were safe. He grabbed his shotgun and placed it in his lap. Gideon knew how to trace calls. And that hell-spawned bastard riding him could tap into that. John woke Mary.

"Get packed. We're leaving in fifteen." He said. "I'll get the boys."

"Excuse me?" She looked like she wanted to deck him. The woman had never taken orders well.

John took a deep breath. "This location has been compromised."

She was packing ten seconds later. John carried out the boys' new things and stuffed them into the trunk. Mary had them dressed and moving when he returned. Neither of the boys looked particularly happy with the news they were leaving.

"Hurry up!" John bellowed.

Sam sleepily followed Mary to the car. John followed with Dean leaning against him to take pressure off his leg. Dammit. They needed to stay put somewhere and get his leg looked at if walking was still hurting him.

"Get in." He held the car door open.

Sam was already inside, curled up with an unhappy expression on his face, a leather binder clutched in one hand and Mary's novel in the other.

Dean paused at the door. His face was weary – a hard worn expression that didn't belong on their fourteen year old. He glanced between Mary and John. "This…uh…leaving in the middle of the night and going god knows where thing – this gonna be a habit? Because I don't like it. We're not baggage."

"Honey, you need to trust us with these things."

Dean chewed on his lower lip. "Yeah. Alright." He caught her eyes. "Thanks for the clothes and all. But if this keeps up, we're not staying."

"Dean-" Mary started, her voice caught between anguish and anger. She was trying hard, overly hard, to gain their trust. But if there was something that could make her snap her into tough, won't take any crap, hunter mode with the boys – it was Dean threatening to leave.

John loomed over Dean. There was no need for Mary to do that. John could play the bad guy just fine. He was better at it and he liked it. Besides, they needed to get on the road.

"Get in the car, Dean." He said. "And you're both staying. Period. You try to leave we'll hunt you down and drag your asses back. And it won't be pretty when we do."

Dean seemed amused by that. "Yeah, right." He smirked. "I'm sure, John. You do that." He eased into the backseat like he had John all figured out.

John was taken aback with the reaction. He expected the kid to cower. Well, Dean was tough. Maybe he was cowering on the inside. Hell, Sam was tough and he was all of nine. And as much as it hurt to speculate what had made them so strong, there was a part of John impressed with his sons. But there was another part of him that expected a degree of righteous fear and respect. Boys needed to feel that towards their father. John grinned at Dean. He knew how to get a reaction. Keep the kid on his toes.

"Get some sleep." He ordered. "And, Dean." He leaned into the boy's space. "It's not John." He said gruffly. "It's Dad." He caught Sam's tired eyes. "To you to Sam."

Dean glanced at his brother. He took a deep breath and turned back with a uneasy expression. "That's funny." He said. "I thought it was sir."

John stepped back. "That's fine too." He said slamming the door.

Mary jumped in front the driver's door. "I'm driving." She leaned in and glared. "I can smell the booze, John." She hissed and climbed inside. John didn't think the drinking was what was bugging her though. She didn't like competing with him for the boys' attentions. It was always that way with Mary. She yelled at you for one thing when she was upset over something completely different. It had led to some fairly loud, confusing fights throughout their marriage.

John got in the passenger side.

She turned back to the boys. "And you can call me Mom." She swallowed. "I mean, I want you to call me Mom." She stared at them and they stared back. "That is, Dean, Sam, if you want to call me Mom, you can."

John watched her. He had never seen her look this disheveled. He chuckled. Couldn't help it. She cut her eyes at him with so much speed and wrath he was surprised he wasn't bleeding. He held up his palms in surrender. The woman was trying too damn hard. It was a sad thing to watch. She needed to step back. Give the boys room. Let them think about things.

She glanced back again. "I would just be very proud if you ever decided to call me Mom. That's all I'm trying to say."

An awkward silence followed. John fidgeted impatiently. They had a full day's ride ahead of them. And the woman hadn't even started the car yet.

"Mary." John motioned to the ignition. "We need to go. Now."

She ignored him, but she started the car. John figured she was about as mad at him as possible. Mary glanced at the kids in the rearview, face softening.

"You two settled in back there? It's a long trip." She said.

John turned back. Sam had put his head down and was snoozing, but John figured when he woke up he'd have plenty of opinions. He didn't seem too shy with them.

Dean stared at his lap. "Yeah." He said softly. "Yeah. We're fine…uh…Mom." He looked up at John and his mouth curled into a sly grin. "And we'll get some sleep, Sir."

Mary didn't look angry at all anymore. If her current expression was any indication, she was somewhere between elated and euphoric.

John grumpily leaned back. A smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at her. Hell. It was good to see her happy. But that little shit in the backseat better start calling him dad. They both should call him dad.

Sixteen hours, four bathroom breaks, and two lunch stops later, they turned down a gravel drive. "We're here." She said.

Dean leaned between them, hanging his arms over the back of the seat. "Please tell me you're kidding." He glanced out the window. "You got us up in the middle of the night and drove forever to take us to a junkyard. Sammy and I have had enough of rusted cars."

"A friend lives here." John said. It was mostly true. "You boys wait here. Mary and I will go make nice."

Dean snorted in disbelief. "Good luck with that."

Sam sighed from the back. "Are we gonna stay here?" He said. "Because we've gotta go to _school _sometime."

"Speak for yourself, Sammy." Dean said, easing back to lean against the seat.

"We'll get you both enrolled in school, Sam." Mary's voice came out certain. "As soon as we sort out what's going on. Don't worry."

"Where?"

"Where what?" She turned off the car and peered at the house.

Sam huffed. "Where are we gonna go to school."

"Oh." Mary glanced at John. They hadn't had much of a home since Lawrence. She smiled at the boys. "I'll tell you what, Sam. You and Dean decide where you want to live, and we'll settle there and enroll you in school."

"What?" John said. Because he sure as hell wasn't agreeing to that.

"You don't have to come." She said. And she was really starting to piss him off. She sure as hell knew he wouldn't leave them. Not for long any way.

"Wherever you want, Sam." She repeated.

Sam seemed deep in thought. "I'll make a list." He said. "With pros and cons."

They got out of the car. John heard him whisper something about two points if it was true. It wasn't. No nine year old kid was picking their home.

"We're discussing this later." John said.

"Fine." She swung her arms and glanced back at the car. "He called me, Mom." She said. John didn't think she'd heard a thing he'd said since Dean had uttered that word in the car. Her mood was starting to wear on him.

John needed some space from the woman. "I heard." He bit out. "He only said it once." They headed to the house. "And he only said it to be a smartass."

"That doesn't matter." Mary waved her hand dismissively. "He still said it."

John sighed and headed up the porch steps. "Let's get this over with."

Bobby didn't know who he was expecting when he heard the knock on the door, but it wasn't John and Mary Winchester. And they sure as hell weren't who he wanted standing on his doorstep.

John, who was a stubborn, hard-to-deal with sonuvabitch on a good day, looked like he wanted something. His face was plastered with a friendly grin. Mary stood behind him with an innocent smile. Since he'd once seen her decapitate a vampire with a pocket knife, he wasn't buying it.

"No. Whatever you two thieving fools want, I don't care!" Bobby said, slamming the door. Damn Winchesters. No telling what type of god-knows-what they'd gotten themselves into to show up on his welcome mat. There were another three raps on the door.

Bobby pulled down his hat. He'd slam the damn thing in their faces as many times as it took for their obstinate heads to figure out he wasn't helping them, or sheltering them, or hiding them. He had his own problems and own demons to face. This time Mary stood in front when he opened it. And dammit, Bobby may not want to deal with her, but he didn't have it in him to slam the door on a lady – hunter or not.

"Whatta you want?" He yelled.

"We need your help, Bobby." She said. "We have a…a special situation. We need a place to stay. Just for a little while."

Based on the fact they were coming to him for help, Bobby figured they must be knee deep in horseshit. He shook his head. "Maybe you should ask someone who gives a damn."

"Please." She reached out and continued to smile her sweet smile. "We need your expertise and your skills."

Oh my lord, was she playing at flattering him here? Like that was going to work. It been years since a beautiful woman could work him over with words alone.

"You stole my Key of Solomon Tome! When I told the two of you not to come back-" He set his gaze to John because he was the bigger disaster of the two. "I meant it."

Mary opened her mouth to deny it, but John spoke first.

"We needed it." He said and the bastard didn't sound the least bit sorry. "You should've let us borrow it, Singer, and there wouldn't have been an issue."

Bobby's fingers twitched. He was going to get his gun and shoot the smug bastard where he stood.

"You can have it back." Mary offered. "Please, Bobby." Her eyes watered up and dammit Bobby didn't need this bullshit. "Please. We just need a place to stay for a week or two. Then we'll find somewhere else. I promise."

"A week or two?" Bobby said, stunned. Clearly these two weren't right in the head. "I ain't even letting you two in the door." They looked shocked. Bobby started laughing. They thought they could swipe his most valuable text and then return for hotel service? Hell. That was funny. He glanced at the couple again and laughed harder. "Now get off of my porch before I decide to shoot the both of ya'."

Mary started to cry. Soft, feminine sobs that pulled at Bobby's twisted insides. John stood back watching and shaking his head like Bobby was the unreasonable one here.

"Please." She said wiping her cheeks. "We're desperate. This is so important. Please."

Bobby hesitated. He peered at her. It was an act. Pure and simple. "No." He said. As soon as he spoke, she stood straighter and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Look, Bobby." Now she was all business. "What do you want in exchange for putting us up? John can sleep outside if you want."

Would the two of them try to force their way inside if he kept saying no. Bobby wouldn't put it past them. But he wasn't in a capitulating mood. His mouth was forming a colorful refusal when he was struck dumb. Two kids were hobbling up to the porch – a young tall one leaning on an even younger short one. Mary and John followed his stare.

"Dean." John barked out. "I told you to stay in the car."

Bobby caught Mary's eyes. "Didn't take you for the type to take in strays." He stood back as suspicious as he was curious.

"They're not-" She started.

"Sam's gotta take a leak." The taller one, Dean, yelled back. He smirked at John as they got closer. "Besides, I thought staying in the car was more like a suggested course of action. Sir."

The other one, Sam, appeared to find the whole exchange taxing. "Dean needs a bathroom, not me. But he fell over when he tried to walk by himself." Sam took in the situation. His eyes stopped on Bobby blocking the doorway. "Can we please use your bathroom?" He frowned. "We've been driving forever."

Bobby looked between Mary and John. "They clean?" They were cute kids, but a lot of evil things wrapped themselves up in innocent looking packages.

"Of course." Mary sounded offended when she answered. "They're our children."

That took a second to make its way into his head. "I thought your children were dead." It was blunt. But in situations like these Bobby didn't pull punches. The death of their sons was what had put the Winchesters on their war path in the first place.

John shook his head. "We were wrong." He said with anger and guilt laced into each word.

Dean slipped on the first porch step. His face paled and he cried out in pain.

Sam reached for Dean. "John! John!" His voice was panicked. "Dean. I'm sorry."

John and Mary rushed to them.

"It's alright, Sam. I got him." John wound his arm around his shoulder and leveled Dean back to his feet. Mary helped steady the boy. Bobby saw his chest rising and falling as he breathed hard.

"I'm sorry." Sam started mumbling apologies like it was his fault Dean had fallen. "I tried to hold on to him." His voice cracked.

Dean found his voice. "N-not your fault, Sammy." Damn the kid sounded like he was hurting.

"I was trying to help you walk." He rubbed his eyes with both fists pushing away tears.

John cleared his throat. "It's not your fault, Sam." He pulled Dean closer. "I got this one, Mary." He said pointedly to her. She hurried to comfort Sam. It was the perfect opportunity for Bobby to close the door and lock it. He needed to do it soon before he started to like the kids.

Mary looked up. "Can we stay?" She sounded sincere. "For the boys.

Bobby was an idjit. There was no other explanation. Because instead of saying 'hell no' like he meant to he said, "Just one night." And he held the door open.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Bobby's house was big, dusty and smelled like a cross between a library and a garage. John helped Dean towards a door off to the left of the main room. Mary walked behind them with Sam pulled close. Dean wasn't entirely comfortable with the attention. The help with the walking was nice and all, but he could do without all the concerned frowns being sent his way. He tensed as his knee knocked the table.

"Take it easy, son." John said. "Careful."

"I'm fine." Dean said.

Bobby watched them, his face anything but happy. And bullshit John and Mary were friends with him. The man looked like he would've run them off with a shotgun if it hadn't been for Sammy's puppy-dog eyes.

"I can do the rest by myself." Dean said when John moved to follow him inside Bobby's bathroom. He swatted him away. "Seriously. I can handle it from here." John stepped back but didn't leave. Mary moved so she was beside the man.

Dean rolled his eyes. He closed and locked the door. The only thing worse than them listening at the door, would be them bursting inside to check on him. His trouble was with the walking, not the peeing.

"Dammit." He whispered as he moved. His head hurt and his leg hurt like a sonuvabitch. The sixteen hour car ride hadn't helped. He steadied his hand on the sink and pulled down his pants so he could look at the wound without John and Mary hovering over him.

The skin around the tape was raised and red. He lifted up the bandages, scrunching his face at the pus around the wound. Dean sighed. Shit. It looked a lot worse than it had yesterday. He glanced down again.

"That's not good." He mumbled, noticing thin red lines emanating from the damaged tissue. There was no doubt it was infected. It shouldn't surprise him. Those harpy things had been nasty. No telling where the freak's talons had been before they found his leg. It sucked big time, though. John and Mary might react badly when they saw how much worse it looked. He finished his business and opened the door.

They were waiting. All of them were waiting. John and Mary stood on either side of the door where he'd left them. Sam was again tucked under Mary's arm, looking uncomfortable, and watching their parents. Dean knew his little brother was deducting points for the hovering. He put his hand against the door frame and took a small step. Problem was Sam would have deducted points for them not caring enough if they'd been camped out somewhere other than the door to the bathroom. It pissed Dean off. Sam could try a little harder to make this work. He understood his brother's reservations, he did, but sometimes Sam was a picky little bitch, and Dean was in no mood to deal with his little brother's trust issues right now.

Bobby peered at him from under a truckers cap by the far wall. "Do I need to get the med kit?" He looked Dean over again and shook his head. "The boy don't look too good."

John's gaze fell to Dean's leg. "How's your leg, Dean?" He said, reaching for him.

Dean shifted away. They should be worrying about dealing with the monsters not worrying about him and his stupid leg. His face heated. It wasn't that big of deal. He frowned down at his thigh. He should probably tell them it was infected though. But it wasn't that bad yet.

"It's fine. Really." He said. He managed to walk over to a large, worn couch and plop down. "The long-ass car ride cramped me up." There was no way he could deal with them pushing at him and prodding at him right now. He needed a few minutes. If they decided to check it, they'd find out. Otherwise, Dean would take care of it. Sam slinked over and sat beside him. Sam didn't say anything, but he crossed his arms and glared at the others.

"You tell me if it gets worse, Dean." John said.

Dean huffed. "Yeah. Fine." He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "Whatever."

"The three of us should talk in the kitchen. Let the boys rest for a minute." Bobby's gruff voice suggested. "I'll make some sandwiches. How's ham do you?"

"Ham's alright." Sam said.

Everyone was silent. Dean felt their eyes on him. He kept looking up. There was an odd-shaped water stain on Bobby's ceiling. If he squinted right; it looked like a boob.

"Um…" Sam said. The words came out slow and concerned. "Dean likes ham too."

"Okay." Mary said. "Okay then. You two wait in here. We'll be in the next room. Call us if you need anything, okay?" Her voice was thick with concern. "Anything at all."

Dean huffed. What he needed was a minute to figure out what to do about his throbbing, harpy infected leg. Until then, they could all kiss his ass.

"Give them a moment, John." He heard Mary softly say as they moved to the next room.

Sam shifted on the seat. After two minutes he spoke. "Dean?"

Dean closed his eyes. He felt like shit. His headache was getting worse. And he was going to ignore Sam until he got the idea and shut the hell up.

"Dean." Sam said harsher. "Talk to me, jerk." He fidgeted on the seat. "Dean?" He was getting upset. Stupid little brother couldn't even give Dean five minutes to figure out how to keep his damn leg from falling off from gangrene or some shit like that.

"What?" He hissed, leveling Sam with a hard expression.

"Are you alright?" He chewed on his lip. "Is your leg really okay?"

Dean sighed. "It's infected."

"You sure?"

"Yeah Sammy." Dean said. The kid would keep asking him questions all day if he didn't answer. Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure the pus and red lines and hot skin means it's infected. So can you let me rest for a minute and figure out what to do about it?"

"You're a pain in the ass when you're sick." Sam's eyes wandered towards the kitchen. "Maybe you really should tell them." He said but he didn't sound like he liked the idea.

"Later."

"Dean?" Sam pulled his face into a concerned frown. "You're the one that said to give them a chance." He said with an accusing undertone. "They need to know how bad you're feeling." Sam had committed to the idea. He probably wanted to observe their reactions.

Dean was in no mood for those games. "No."

"Why not?"

Dean released a huff of exasperated air. "Because I said so, alright, Sam." He scooted away and waited. That was the complete wrong thing to say to Sam. Sam always looked for reasons even if there were none. His smart brain probably shifted into overdrive the moment the words left Dean's mouth.

Sam stood up. He crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. "If you don't tell them, I will."

"Like hell you will." Dean pulled to his feet, wincing as he put weight on the lame leg. "I mean it, Sam. I will kick your ass."

"No. You're the one who wanted to go with them!" He stepped right into Dean's space. "You want me to trust them and like them and then you won't do the same." He pointed at Dean. "You're a hypocrite."

"Well you're a bitch."

Sam plopped back down on the couch pouting. "You always do this when you're hurt." He sighed a long exaggerated sigh. "They seem okay, I guess. So tell them, Dean."

"Tell us what?" John walked in carrying food.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing that can't wait." He eased back down beside Sam who looked beyond pissed off. Dean chuckled. He couldn't help it. A little pissed off Sammy was a hilarious sight. Eyes slanted. Cheeks puffed up. Stupid hair falling in his little red face.

"It's not funny." Sam mumbled.

"Okay." John sat the sandwiches on the side table. "I need to ask you a few questions."

More questions? Dean huffed and leaned back to stare at the ceiling boob again.

"Dean." John's voice was no nonsense. "This is important. Pay attention."

Dean felt Sam tense beside him. Shit. He didn't mind the kid being mad at him but he didn't want him mad at John. Sam seemed to warming up to him a little tiny bit.

Dean lifted his head off the back of the couch and met John's eyes. "Alright." He said.

"Bobby thinks this thing is tracking you using your names."

"Okay." Dean said. He rubbed his hand against his temple and tried to determine if that was a question. It wasn't. But Dean had one of his own. "What is it?"

John pursed his lips and Dean didn't think he was going to answer. "It's a demon." He said finally. And, okay, Dean would've preferred Sam _not_ to hear that bit of information.

Sam fidgeted beside him. "How is it using our names to find us?" He said.

"Doesn't matter."

That didn't satisfy Sam. Dean didn't have to look at him to know that.

"Can it hear us whenever we use them?" Sam said. "Or when we write down our names? Or what?"

Dean hadn't thought about all that. Sammy did ask good questions. Sometimes. It was bound to happen with the mere quantity of stuff running through his head.

John sat down across from them. "It's a type of ritual magic." The man peered at Sam. "It can locate anyone who uses your given name."

"Wait." Dean leaned forward. "Every time someone says Dean Win-"

"Don't say it!" Sam slapped his arm. "Then the demon will find us. Is that right?"

"Bobby says it only works when someone who isn't you says it and only the first time they use it. Something about the power of naming. But I wouldn't risk it." John ran his hand over his stubble. "They came after you when your foster parents put in adoption papers. And again when my contact repeated the information on you boys." He looked between them. "Mary and I have reason to believe it may have been looking for you for awhile. Can you think of any reason it didn't find you earlier?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah." He could think of about nine reasons. Dean wiped sweat from his brow and closed his eyes.

"You care to elaborate, son." John said. Dean felt his eyes on him. "Now, Dean."

Dean looked at him. "Well. Could've been the fact we've been in eight different Foster homes. And a few group homes here and there between them. Or maybe it could've been the fact the system had us listed as Dean and Sam Smith until Frank and Beatrice finally made them change it." That suddenly worried him. "Wait. Did they get killed because I kept bugging them about fixing our names?" Dean felt dizzy. He reached out and grabbed the arm of the couch to keep from toppling over. He swallowed down the nausea coming over him. Luckily, John didn't notice.

"Why'd they have you listed as Smith?" John said. "And how did you end up in Oklahoma?"

Dean shrugged. He didn't want to answer that. And he needed his question answered. "Did they get killed because of me and the name thing?"

"No." John said. "Answer the question, Dean?"

"Answer mine." Dean said.

"I already told you, no. Your foster parents getting killed was neither your fault nor Sam's fault." He took in a deep breath of air. "Mary's demanding radio silence. So I need to know what you know. How'd you end up in Oklahoma?"

"We've always lived in Oklahoma." Sam said. He looked at Dean. "Right?""

"Yeah-"

"No." John cut in. "We lived in Kansas." He turned his attention to Dean. "Who took you after the fire? Your mother and I..." His face fell. "Your mother and I were shown two badly burned bodies."

Dean's head pounded. That meant more people – kids – were dead. He glanced at Sam. But he couldn't help being happy Sam wasn't one of those bodies. Maybe he zoned out for a moment because he startled when John placed his hand on his knee.

"Dean. What do you remember?" He prodded.

Dean didn't want to talk about it. John didn't sound like he was going to accept that, though.

"I don't know." He let the memories push into his head. "There was a fireman. I think he dropped us off with social services. He said our parents were dead." Dean frowned. John had asked him about people with yellow eyes earlier. Dean looked at him. "He…he might have had yellow eyes. He pulled us from the fire."

John tensed at his words. "You sure?"

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Might have been a reflection of the flames." He stretched his leg out. It was throbbing again.

"He told them Smith." John said. His brows drew together like he was considering the implications.

"No. He didn't say much of anything other than orphan." Dean chuckled. "Smith was the great state of Oklahoma's social services idea. I told them to fix it a few years ago, but me and the social worker didn't really get along. I guess we weren't exactly top priority."

"No one asked you your name?"

Dean shrugged. Mary strolled out of the kitchen. She pointed to the sandwiches. "You two should be eating." She said turning to John. "Bobby's agreed to let us stay for the week and he's securing the house. He thinks it would be best if they boys were in one place for a few days."

John nodded and turned back to Dean. "Why didn't you tell them your names?" He said again.

"I did." Dean said motioning between himself and Sam. "I told them Dean and Sammy." He just hadn't said anything after that. Not for awhile anyway.

"You knew your last name when you were four." John said. "You could say it and you could spell it."

"I told you, I asked the social worker to fix it."

Mary sat down beside Sam and peered at them. "Was there anything odd about the social worker?" She said.

"She kept four boxes of Kleenex on her desk." Dean said. "And none of them were opened."

Mary's lip twitched down. "No. I mean-"

Sam sighed. "She was fine." He said. "They didn't know our last name. Dean didn't talk when he was little."

"Dean talked all the time when he was little." Mary said.

"No." Sam said. "He used to only talk to me. They made him see a doctor and they put him in special classes at school. I know because one of our foster mothers thought it was funny. She said that I talked before him and that Dean drove the shrink crazy."

Dean clenched his fist. Sam was dead. He was gonna kill him as soon as he got a chance. That was private and they didn't talk about the not talking. Not Ever.

"Sam." Dean said through clenched teeth. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Sam sighed. "They didn't know our last name until you told them. And you didn't tell anyone until you were ten." Sam glanced at the adults. "But they didn't believe him."

"I talked way before I was ten." Dean said. He didn't want John and Mary getting the wrong idea and thinking he was dumb. "I talked when I was six." They looked at him like that was pitiful. It wasn't like he couldn't talk before that. And he had always talked to Sam. Dean flopped back on the couch and sighed. This was exactly why he didn't like people to know about it. "I didn't think that much about fixing our names until later." He added. "And the social worker thought I was making it up because I wanted a last name that meant rifle." He thought back to a few of his conversations with her. "She wouldn't even say it." He shrugged. "But, in retrospect, I guess that was a good thing."

"Seems so." John said but he didn't sound too happy. "Anything else we need to know?"

"No." Dean said, resting his head back.

Sam took in a deep breath. "Dean says his leg is infected." He said matter-of-factly. "It's worse than it was."

Dean ended up with John, Mary, Bobby, and Sam – who was dead as soon as Dean got him alone – staring down at him while he laid pants-less on the couch pretending his boxers were shorts.

Sam sounded pissy. "That really looks bad, Dean." He said glancing up at Mary. "That looks bad."

"Yes, Sam." She put her hands on her hips. "It does." She cleared her throat. "I'm taking him to the emergency room."

"I don't need-"

"Dean." Mary put her hand on his forehead looking sweet and motherly. "You don't get a vote."

"I'll take him, Mary." John said. "You stay here with Sam."

"I'm not staying!" Sam said.

"Sam." John pulled an irritated face. "You're staying here with your mother."

"No." Mary said. "I'm not staying here, John. I'm taking Dean to the hospital."

"I can carry the boy in." John said.

This got worse and worse. Dean attempted to push himself to his feet, but John reached out and stopped him.

"Keep off that leg, Dean."

"I don't need to be carried." Dean was mortified. "And I don't need a hospital. Just give me some antibiotics or something." The room was beginning to spin again. Dean concentrated on not toppling over until it stopped.

Mary glared at John. "He gets this stubborn streak from you." She said. "They both do." She sat beside Dean on the couch. "You're going to the emergency room, Dean. I'll take you."

Bobby ended up taking him.

"This is stupid." Dean said leaning his face against the cool glass. "I'm fine."

"Sorry kid." Bobby said. "But that wound needs to be flushed out." He pulled into the hospital. The building was brown brick and square. Its four stories looked especially dull beside the gray sky. "Besides, it looked like you needed a break from those three."

"Not from Sam." Dean said, grimacing as the sappy words blurted from his lips. It must've been the fever talking. "I mean…I mean I like to keep an eye on the kid. That's all."

"Trust me, Dean." Bobby parked and turned to him. "I got my issues with John and Mary, but they'd die, kill, and torture before letting anything happen to your brother…or you…again." He jumped out of the car, hurried around it, and opened Dean's door. The air outside was bitingly cold. "C'mon."

Dean let him pull him up and out. "You're not gonna try to carry me inside are you?"

"Nah." His breath fogged the air. "But let me help you. No reason to hurt yourself for nothing." He pulled Dean's arm around his shoulder and took some of the weight. They'd gotten five feet when Dean heard the deep rumble of the Impala's engine. John was driving. He parked and Mary and Sam jumped out of the backseat. John cut the engine and followed.

Dean exchanged a concerned glance with Bobby.

"John?" Bobby's arm tightened. "Everything okay?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Everything's fine." John said. "Figured we'd all stay together for awhile."

Dean offered him a weak grin. "Couldn't stay away, huh?"

John eyed the parking lot like he was on alert. "Something like that." He said. Dean was beginning to think the man was incapable of relaxing.

"Good." Bobby snorted. "I'm glad you all got your heads outta your asses long enough to figure that out." He nodded at Dean. "I could use some help with this one. He's heavy for such a scrawny kid."

Normally, Dean would take offence to that. He wasn't scrawny. He was wiry and solid. But he was leaning on Bobby like the old guy was his only means to stay upright so he let it go. John walked over to Dean's free side, wrapping his arm around him. The two men helped him inside while Mary got him signed in. In the waiting room they eased him into a green chair and stepped to the side to talk out of earshot.

Sam plopped into an identical chair beside him. "I told them we stay together. No matter what."

"Damn straight." Dean leaned his head back against the wall. He must've drifted off for a few minutes because Mary was gently shaking him a moment later.

"Sweetie, wake up. They're going to see you now. You're under the name Dean Campbell." She placed her hand on his cheek. "John's going to go back with you. Bobby and I will wait with Sam, okay?"

"Yeah." He smirked at his brother. "Look after them, Sammy."

And Dean must've really looked shitty because instead of rolling his eyes or mumbling under his breath, Sam just nodded and said, "I will, Dean."

John pulled him up, maneuvering Dean's arm around his shoulder. It was difficult. Dean's feet didn't want to move and his legs really wanted to give out. Once they were beyond eyeshot of the others, John paused.

"You with me, Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean said. "I think so." He closed his eyes and let his head rest against John's shoulder.

"Dean?" John brought his hand to Dean's forehead. "I can carry you. Sam won't see. Or I can ask for a wheelchair."

Dean lifted his head and opened his eyes wide. The idea of being carried was humiliating. He was too old for that kind of thing. But the idea of collapsing wasn't much better and if Dean was being honest, he was getting close to that point.

"Where's the exam room?"

John motioned towards the end of the hall.

Dean laughed. "Dude, I can make it twenty feet."

John hesitated. "If you say so, son." He pulled him closer. "But let's take it slow." They moved a step ahead. "If it gets to be too much, I'll flag down a nurse and get a wheel chair."

"A wheelchair for twenty feet?" Dean wiped his brow. It was hot in here. "They'd love that."

"Nurses love pushing wheelchairs. Especially for short distances." John said with his eyes set on the door at the end of the hall. "It's their thing."

"Their thing?" Dean grimaced as they moved a few more steps. "I'm sure. Probably the only thing they love more than people demanding wheelchairs is getting flagged down in the hallway by ornery old men and teenagers."

"I'm not that old." John pulled him through the door and into a small room. He helped him up onto the exam bench and felt his forehead again. "You've gotten hotter."

"That's what the girls always tell me."

John peered at him. "You get that too?" He got up and peaked out in the hall, checking his watch. "Must run in the family."

"Huh." Dean blinked at him. "That's almost funny." Dean said, grinning. "I didn't know you could do almost funny."

"I'm full of surprises." John pushed gently at his shoulder. "Lay back, son."

Dean lay down on his side, letting his cheek rest against the cushion. His head felt heavy like it might sink down through the orange polyester. "You should tell Sammy I said you were almost funny. He'll give you almost a point for it."

John's brows drew together. "And that's a good thing?"

"Trust me." Dean let his eyes shut. "You need all the points you can get with that kid."

The next little while was an annoying blur. First a male nurse with biceps bulging from his short sleeves came in and asked him a bunch of questions. John answered them for him, which was fine with Dean, because the questions were annoying. Then the nurse took his temperature and his blood pressure, poked around his leg, and took a sample for analysis. An old doctor that looked like Santa Claus in a lab coat came in soon after him. He asked the same questions and examined the wound like it was fascinating.

"This may sting, Dean." Dr. Santa told him. "Try to hold still. I need to get a better look. It'll just take a second."

The man gently pulled at the skin and peered at his leg. His lips twitched down as he continued to examine the wound. Dean clenched his teeth. Might sting, his ass. It fucking hurt. Finally, the doctor stepped back.

"So." Dean said, angry and breathless. "Can you write me a prescription so I can go home already?"

"Dean." John warned. "Keep it respectful." He turned to the doctor. "How's it look?"

"We'll need to wait until the labs come back. For now, I'll have the nurses clean and dress it and put him on antibiotics. He'll need to stay overnight for observation. Maybe longer, depending on the fever and his response to the medicine."

"You gotta be kidding me." Dean said, frowning. "I don't want to stay. I feel f-fine." He closed his eyes to keep the run from spinning. "Peachy."

Dean wasn't sure what happened after that but he awoke in a hospital room and it was dark outside the small window. And if the rainbow painted on the wall was any indication, he was in the pediatric ward. Mary was resting in a gray chair beside the bed. She sat up straight when she noticed him awake.

"Hey, Dean." She said softly. "How're you feeling, sweetie?"

"M'tired." Dean eyelids were heavy like curtains. He struggled to keep them up. "Where's Sammy?"

"He went with John and Bobby to get a late dinner." She smiled. "He's fine. You can rest, baby."

"Okay." Dean felt a hand stroking his forehead as he sunk into sleep. Later, he was vaguely aware of John's deep voice echoing in the room and of Sammy's little form curling next to him on the bed.

When he opened his eyes again, light spilled through the small window, Mary was dozing in the chair, and Sam and John were gone. The morning nurse, Jackie, was a pretty black girl with very pink lipstick. Mary roused when she came in the room.

"Fever's down." Jackie said.

Mary let out a breath of air. "Good." She said smiling at him with relief etched into her expression. "Great."

Jackie patted him on the shoulder. "Dean. I need to clean and dress your leg." She smiled down at him. "It's going to hurt. The painkillers we have should take the edge off. But tell me if the pain gets to be too much." She lifted the bandages away.

The pain was very much too much. His leg felt worse than when it got sliced up, worse than when he walked into the furniture at Bobby's house, worse than when Santa was pulling at it. It was like Jackie was sticking sharp, pointed fingers into his thigh and stabbing them around. He clenched his teeth and tried to take even breaths. He didn't want to cry in front of Mary. He put on his best 'it doesn't hurt like hell and I'm not gonna sob' face.

Mary grabbed his hand. "Dean, she's almost done." The worry in her voice made him think he hadn't fooled her.

"Just a minute more." She said gently. "The worst is over." Jackie brought her hands away and smiled at Dean like she hadn't just tortured him for five minutes. "There. All finished."

Dean was shaking. Cool sweat dribbled down his temples and his upper lip. Mary rubbed her thumb back and forth over his hand while he caught his breath.

"Can you give him something stronger?" She said tightly. Dean glanced at her. She looked upset. Really upset. "He's hurting."

"I'll see if the doctor can up his pain medication." Jackie said, sounding apologetic. "But we need to keep the wound as clean as possible. I'll be back to dress it again after lunch. And another nurse will do it tonight."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "Awesome." He forced out with a grin. "Can't wait."

They did up his medicine. Or that's what Dean thought they did in his moments of lucidity. It was hard to think clearly. Nurse Jackie's next visit was the only thing clear in his head. That was because it hurt like hell. But it didn't feel like she was ripping off his leg, so he counted it as a win. Mary held his hand all day and though Dean found that somewhat embarrassing, it seemed to make it easier to rest.

John, Sam, and Bobby came by around dinner time. Dean heard them, but he couldn't find it in himself to really wake up. He felt Mary lean down close to him.

"John's going to stay with you tonight." She said, pushing her hand through his hair. "Rest, sweetheart, and Sam and I will be back first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, Dean. I'll be here first thing in the morning." Sam whispered in his ear. "The hospital won't allow kids to stay overnight." He sighed. "It's dumb."

Dean was awake and loopy later. He stared and John. The man sat in the chair with his muscles relaxed, but his eyes were tense and focused.

"Dude." Dean said in a happy voice. "You should learn to relax."

"That so?"

Dean stared at him.

John leaned forward. "Dean?" His brow creased.

"Yeah?" Dean grinned. "Sorry. Medicine's making m'feel weird."

"They're going to clean your leg again soon." John peered at him. "I'll talk to the doctor about trying a different medicine. Will you be okay for five minutes?"

Dean contemplated that, pursing his lips, and thinking hard. "Yes sir." He said. "I'll be fan-fucking-tastic." Oops. He probably shouldn't say fuck in front of John. Although, Dean thought John probably said fuck all the time. But he seemed like a 'do as I say not as I do' type. "I mean…I'll be fan-fucking-tastic." He bit his lips and blinked at John. That still wasn't right. "No. I mean-"

"I get the idea, Dean." He shook his head, but he looked more amused than angry. "I'll be right back."

The nurse came by while John was gone. She looked about fifty and wore pink scrubs with yellow butterflies all over them. Her tanned face had the texture of soft, overused leather.

"I'm Flo." She said with a raspy voice. "Flo Norbat. I'm your nurse this shift." She smiled and Dean thought she was probably pretty when she was young.

"Dean." He was having a hard time concentrating, but he knew his name. No matter what social services believed, Dean knew his name. "Dean Winchester."

Her drawn eyebrows rose. "Dean Winchester?" She grabbed the clipboard. "Your chart says Dean Campbell."

"Oh." Dean said. That was important but his sluggish mind couldn't remember why. "Y-yeah. Campbell. That's what I meant."

She puttered around him, checking his IV and his pulse. "I'm going to clean your wound, Dean. But first I need to check your temperature." She placed the metal piece under his tongue. The thermometer beeped a minute later. She frowned at the display.

"What is it?"

"One-hundred and one." She patted his hand. "It's down a little bit from this afternoon. I'll let the doctor know. How's your leg feel, hon?"

Dean shrugged. "It's okay. I don't think you need to mess with it." He tried to take in deep breaths. The nurses had changed the dressing twice on his wound while Mary was here. It hurt worse than anything he could remember even the second time with the happy medicine. He wished she hadn't gone home.

His eyes wandered to the door. "My dad will be back in a minute."

"I can wait until he gets back."

"It's okay either way." Dean shrugged. "But he'll be right back."

"Oh." Flo nodded and said, "I think I'd prefer to wait."

John strode in a few minutes later. He held out his hand. "John." He said. "I'm Dean's father."

"Flo. I'm on call tonight." She smiled. "I was about to dress the wound. You ready, hon?" She asked Dean. "Why don't you hold his hand, John?"

John nodded. He took Dean's hand awkwardly like he didn't know what to do with it. Dean grimaced as she pulled back the bandages. He tried to concentrate on something other than the pain. He studied John's reaction. He acted differently from Mary. She'd looked as his face, with a concerned frown, the entire time the nurse worked, flinching whenever Dean did. John's expression was fixed and serious and on the nurse and the wound. He watched as she cleaned his leg like he wanted to know every detail of what she was doing.

"I'm going to pull out the deeper dressings, now." Flo's voice was calm and professional. She paused. "Are you ready?"

Dean wasn't ready, probably never would be ready, but he didn't think he really got a vote, so he nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. He really didn't want his leg cleaned out again. Once should have been enough. Three times in a day seemed like way too much. It was unfair. No. It was shitty.

He squeezed John's hand hard. "Shit!" Dean said as she removed the deeper dressings.

John shifted his gaze to him. "We're gonna have to work on that mouth of yours, Dean." He pushed Dean's short hair off his forehead. "But I'm gonna let it go for now." He said as Flo finished up and left them alone.

"Sorry." Dean inhaled deeply. "But…that shit fucking hurts." He felt his brow scrunch in confusion and eased a loopy grin over his face. "My censor's messed up."

"I can see that." John sank back in the chair, sighing wearily. "But that's enough for now. Get some rest, Dean."

John's face was tight and pale. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the gray chair beside Dean's hospital bed. Dean shifted, wincing as he jiggled the bed.

"Sorry." Dean mumbled.

John frowned at him. "For what."

Dean turned away. "For all this." He pursed his lips and turned back. His eyelids were trying to lock shut. He concentrated on keeping them open. "Sorry, Dad."

John froze. The color drained from his face. He took a deep breath and smiled. After a moment he said, "It's alright," but he sounded like he had something caught in his throat. He chuckled. "To tell you the truth, the only reason I give a flying fuck about the language is I don't think your mother would approve."

"Okay." Dean said. John might have been trying to be funny again. Dean wasn't sure. But he seemed to be missing the point. "But that's not what I meant. I mean I'm sorta sorry 'bout that…but I'm really sorry 'bout this."

"What's this?" John said.

Dean's words weren't coming together as well as they did on his non-hospital non-doped up days, so he motioned around the room as a reply.

John stared at him a moment and then leaned forward. "This isn't something you have to be sorry for, Dean." He said still looking confused.

Dean didn't totally believe that. Being in the bed sucked ass. Sitting for hours in the chair beside it certainly was no picnic for John and Mary. And this type of quality care had to expensive. He'd been back in the family for three days and he was already costing them time and money.

"Dean. I mean it." John sounded sincere. "You don't need to apologize for being sick." He shuffled in his chair. "You understand, son?" The words came out hard and commanding.

"Um." Dean didn't understand. And he really needed a nap. But John looked like he was waiting for an answer and he didn't look like he'd wait until the morning. "I'm not sorry, Dad?" He offered the man a shaky smile.

"Good." John turned away. "Get some rest." He sounded choked up again.

He'd probably caught a cold watching Dean all night. Lots of people caught things in hospitals. It was another good reason to hate the places. Dean didn't have enough energy to keep his eyes open any longer. He was cold but he was too zapped to do anything about it. He felt John pull the covers around him few minutes later.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Mary found Sam sitting on the porch steps, gazing out into cold night. He clutched the same leather case she'd seen him carrying when they left the cabin. She sat down beside him. He hugged the case closer but didn't acknowledge her.

"We'll go see Dean first thing in the morning." She said.

Sam didn't respond.

Mary tried again. "Bobby's got a fire going." She rubbed her chilled hands together. "We should warm up and get some sleep so we'll be alert for visiting your brother tomorrow."

"I'm okay here." Sam said in a small voice. "You can go rest."

Mary sat for a moment more. She got up, went inside and found a blanket, and went back to her place beside Sam on the steps. He glanced at her when she sat back down, looking surprised.

"If we're going to sit out here, we might as well be warm." She draped the wool around both their shoulders. Sam shrugged, but he didn't shake the blanket off.

"John will take care of your brother tonight – if you're worried about him."

"Dean's scrappy. That's what Beatrice used to say." Sam looked down at his feet with his little mouth turned down in a sad frown.

Mary waited for him to say more. He didn't. Instead, he kept his eyes down and his expression glum. She tried the direct approach.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"Dean thinks all this is his fault. But he always thinks things are his fault. It's not, though." He looked up at Mary and his voice cracked. "It's mine, isn't it?"

"No. Sam none of this-"

"I know it's my fault. The demons didn't come and snatch us from you and John until I was born. So the demons that killed Frank and Beatrice were after me. And the demons we're running from now are after me, too. "

"Sam." Mary said. "It's not your fault."

"I've been thinking about it. I'm pretty sure it is."

"No." Mary caught his gaze. "Everything that happened. Everything. I know it's not your fault. I know, Sam."

Sam looked uncertain. "How?"

"Because it's mine." Mary scooted closer to him. "I knew about all the bad things out there. And I knew how to protect against them. But I pretended not to know. I thought…I thought I could just leave it all behind and have a happy, normal live with John and you boys."

Sam was silent. Mary couldn't tell if he believed her.

Finally, he said, "Are there lots of monsters out there?"

There was no good way for her to answer that question. Saying yes held no comfort and saying no was an outright lie. She settled on saying, "Most people go their entire lives without seeing any."

"I've seen demons and harpies so far. And Dean saw a ghost in this one group home we stayed at for a week." Sam said.

"We'll protect you from all that. Both of you."

Sam stayed lost in his thoughts for several long moments. "You can't."

"We can-"

"You can't. Even if you want to." His voice rose. "You can't always keep us safe."

Mary's instincts said to shake her baby and scream that she and John certainly could protect him. From anything and everything. Forever. And make him realize that he didn't need to worry now. He was safe. And Dean was safe. But the rational part of her brain knew it wasn't really true. These last years of separation proved that.

"I'll do anything to keep you safe, Sam." Mary took in a deep breath. "But maybe you're right. Wait here." She grinned at him. "I've got something for you." Mary untangled from the blanket and ran inside. She came back a minute later. "Here." She held a small, iron butterfly knife out to him. "This is for you."

Sam took it. There was neither excitement nor understanding on his face as he examined it.

"What is it?" He said.

Mary took it back. She flipped it open displaying the blade. With some fancy handwork, she closed it back. "I can teach how to use it. It's iron so it's a little heavy. You'll have to guard against rust, but it's a good blade. And iron repels lots of things."

Sam looked more interested now. "I can have it?"

"Yes."

"And it repels monsters."

"Not all of them. But a lot. Including ghosts and demons."

Sam nodded. "And I can carry it?"

"I want you to carry it."

He took it and inspected it again. "Can you teach me how to open it one-handed? Dean would be jealous of that."

Mary laughed. "I can teach you to hit a bull's eye at twenty feet, Sam." She walked him through the motions of opening it. "Practice and you'll get fast with it." She traced a finger on the outside of the knife. The remnants of small daises were carved into the metal. "My dad gave this to me when I was about your age. It would mean a lot to me if you took it."

Sam looked away. "Okay." He said. Mary thought he was done talking for the night. Sam had been guarded – well, he'd been more guarded – without Dean around. But he turned back a moment later.

"Frank gave me these." He said, opening the case and showing her the contents. Inside, shining and near mint, were silver dollars dating back to the late eighteen hundreds. "His grandfather started collecting them, then his dad, and then Frank. And he gave them to me for my birthday last year."

"They're lovely, Sam." Mary glanced at the rusty knife with faded daisies carved in the handle. It was dull and meaningless in comparison. She cleared her throat. "You must've meant a lot to him."

"I guess." He said. "If Frank and Beatrice hadn't wanted to adopt me, they'd still be alive."

"Sam, sometimes bad things happen to good people. I don't know why. But John and I try to save whoever we can. I'm sorry we weren't there to save them."

He shrugged. "You didn't know." He closed the case and put the knife in his pocket. "I just miss them and I don't want them to be gone. That's all."

Mary's heart about broke when he started to cry. She didn't know what to say so she just stayed outside with Sam until he rubbed his eyes and announced he was ready to go to bed.

Mary wanted the morning hospital trip to be family only but Bobby insisted on coming with them.

"I wanna check on that smart ass kid of yours." He said.

Sam ran ahead of them down the hall to Dean's room. Dean was sitting up, alert and awake, when they walked in the room. Sam was already beside him, talking and grinning like an excited puppy. The older blond nurse, Flo, was moving around the room, checking the instruments. John got up and greeted them at the door.

"Dean's doing better." He said. "The doctor wants to see us. I want him to discharge him this afternoon."

"Good." Mary walked to the bed. "You look a lot better, sweetie." She said. Tension in her arms released. A physical weight had been lifted off her.

"Hey, kid." Bobby smiled at him. "How's the leg?"

"Still attached."

The nurse smiled. "Dean's doing very well." She lowered her voice and spoke so only Mary could hear. "Doctor Hastings said something about permanent muscle damage so make sure to bring it up in the meeting. I mentioned it to John earlier."

Mary widened her eyes.

Her expression must have been one of utter worry because the nurse added, "It's normal procedure in these types of injuries. And Dean is doing well. The doctor may release him this afternoon."

Mary nodded, but didn't feel much better. She smiled at Dean. "We'll be right back. Maybe we can get you out of here today."

Dean smirked. "You do that and I'll be awesome."

"I'll stay with the rug rats." Bobby said. "You two go make nice."

Mary and John met with Dr. Hastings at his third floor office. Dean was right. He did look a little like Santa Claus. He sat behind a desk in the small office. The walls were covered in framed prints of overly famous artwork like Van Gogh's Starry night and the walls behind were a sunny yellow. There was no window.

"Can I help you?" He said.

"Yes." Mary walked inside. "We're Dean's parents, Mary and John Campbell. We want to discuss his treatment."

"Well." He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the edges. "I'm very pleased with his progress."

John shook his hand and sat in one of two chairs in front of the desk. "We want to take Dean home today."

Mary took the other seat. "Do you think there's permanent damage? The nurse mentioned it was a possibility."

The doctor looked surprised. His gray eyebrows jumped up towards his white head. "Well." His tone turned serious. "It's always a possibility with any injury, but in your son's case, his wound is healing nicely. I don't think it's an issue." He grinned at them both. "And I think with some rest and relaxation, Dean can continue his recovery at home. Just give me an hour or so to discharge him." He tapped his watch. "I've got rounds." The doctor stood up and politely held the door for them. His face twitched in irritation. "Which nurse told you to expect permanent damage?"

"Flo." Mary said with a building apprehension in her mind. She took a deep breath. "She said you wanted to meet with us."

"I didn't suggest anything like that." The doctor cocked his head. "It's not like her." He chuckled. "I'll have to offer her some time off."

John was already out of the office running towards the stairs. Mary followed him, one hand searching out the canister of holy water she'd tucked in her jeans, the other grasping at the handle of her silver knife. They'd left Bobby with the boys she told herself. They hadn't left them alone. Bobby would look after them. They'd be fine. They weren't alone.

Bobby watched the boys chatting. He concluded he preferred the younger Winchesters to the older Winchesters about as much as he preferred dogs to cats – which was a helluva lot.

"And watch." Sam said flipping open a small knife with smooth fast movements and one hand. "I practiced last night when I couldn't sleep." He beamed back at Dean. "Whatta you think?"

"Cool, Sammy."

Bobby looked at the weapon. It was small and dull and…good gracious….were those flowers on the handle? Well. It wasn't one of his stash. Bobby didn't adorn his weapons with decorations. If the kid had stolen it, he hadn't stolen it from him.

Sam flipped it closed. "It's iron."

The nurse came over. "I'm sorry. You can't have that in the hospital. No weapons allowed." She turned to Bobby. "Can you take it to the car for him?"

"There are lots of sharp knife-like things in a hospital." Sam pointed out. "Can I just put it back in my pocket?"

Bobby couldn't argue with that logic. "He's not doin' any harm." He said.

The nurse looked unsure. "I don't know." She walked to the door. "It would be better if you put it away for him."

"Please." Sam said. He grinned and batted his big eyes at her. If she could resist him, Bobby'd be fairly impressed with the woman.

Dean pushed up in the bed. "C'mon Flo. Sammy's not going to carve anybody up – especially with that. It's covered in daisies."

Sam shot Dean a glare. "You're just jealous 'cause I got a knife."

"A girly knife." Dean said.

Flo put her hand on the side of the door. "Sorry, Sam." She sighed. "Either have your friend take it away outside of the building or I'm going to have to confiscate it."

Sam clutched it in his hand and brought his fist to his side. His tone and expression became firm. "You're not taking it. My mom gave it to me." He glanced at Bobby. "But I guess Bobby could…"

"Hey." Dean's face was scrunched up. He squinted at the nurse. "How'd you know Sam's name?"

"I guess your Dad must've mentioned it." She tapped her palm impatiently on the wood and frowned at Bobby. "Sir, you're going to have to put that in the car for him or it's going to security."

Bobby considered her. She wanted him gone way too much. He moved closer to the boys. She stared back at him and closed the door.

"You should've gone to the car, Bobby." She said.

Dean scooted back on the bed. "Now, I know I didn't tell you Bobby's name."

"No." She said, eyes turning inky black. "But you did tell me your name, Dean Winchester. Well. You told Flo. And then I hitched a ride with her so I could see Sammy here."

Bobby catalogued his weapons. He had a silver knife on his ankle but that wouldn't do much good. His emergency gun was tucked in his waistband, but shooting the nurse would kill the poor soul possessed and do jack shit to the demon riding the unlucky woman. He needed to knock her senseless.

"What do you want with Sam?" Bobby said, stalling and scanning the room.

"I want to break his little neck. That's all."

Dean was out of bed in front of Sam, standing with his weight all on one leg and his arm outstretched. "You stay away from my brother!"

She grinned. "It's not personal, Dean. But Sam's competition and we want him out of the way."

Her attention was momentarily on the older boy. Bobby rushed her. She moved to the right, dodging his fist. She grabbed his scruff and flung him backwards. A fleeting feeling of weightlessness hit him before he hit the wall with a remarkably quiet thump. Knocked breathless, he looked towards the door. Now would be a great time for Mary and John to bust inside. He got to his knees. Bobby didn't see what happened next but Dean came crashing down beside him and knocked his head against the hard floor. The boy moaned, blinking blearily.

"Stay back." Sam's voice was high and frightened. "I mean it." He brandished his little knife in front of him.

Bobby struggled to his feet. Dean rolled over beside him and Bobby thought he was coming to.

The demon's face was twisted in amusement as she gazed down at Sam. "Aww. You're really pretty cute." She grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Sam screamed out. The knife flew from his hand, landing a few feet to the left of Bobby. "So I'll make it fast, hon. A little snap to your little neck. That's all it takes."

Bobby didn't have much time. He dove forward, grabbing the knife, and throwing it at her. It sunk into her shoulder.

"Ow!" She let go of Sam and fished it out, cursing again as her hand blistered on the handle. She dropped it heavily to the floor and frowned down at the little blade. "You're going pay for that Bobby. I'm going to-"

Bobby didn't waste time listening to her talk. The best time to attack an evil bastard was when he, she, or it were intent on having a chat. Her expression flashed surprised before he dropped her with a quick and hard right hook to the face. Bobby shook his head. He might not look like that much but man and monster alone had been felled by the power of his right fist. He bent down, sighing, hoping he hadn't done too much damage to the host.

Dean crawled up beside him. Bobby was glad to see him lucid. Hopefully, the boy got no more than a headache from his flight across the hospital room. Sam moved so he was beside his brother.

"Is she dead?" Dean said.

"No." Bobby grabbed his silver knife from his ankle and starting ripping the sheets. "But she's possessed. We need to incapacitate her and get her back to my place before the demon wakes up or escapes."

"Uh…okay." Dean said. "So you want to tie her up and then carry her out of the hospital? I think someone might notice that."

"I gotta plan." Bobby told him.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sure."

Sam grabbed his flower engraved knife from the floor with one hand and held the other tucked to his stomach.

"Can't you exorcise her here? It just takes words, right?" Sam said.

Bobby glanced at them. Smart boys, both of them.

"Yeah." He said. He wasn't going to lie to them. "But I think your parents will want to talk to the demon inside first."

Bobby tied her up, trying his best not to further hurt the host. He hated this part. The woman trapped inside could be in pain. Awake. Afraid. Anything. He dragged the nurse to the bathroom and closed the door, pulling off his hat and wiping his brow. It was never simple with demons.

John and Mary came crashing through the door not three seconds later. John's jaw was clenched and his shoulders were tensed. Mary stood in a fighting stance, her left hand behind her back undoubtedly clutching a weapon. They both froze as they saw the boys.

"We had some trouble." Bobby said a moment later. "It's unconscious in the bathroom."

Mary and John glanced at each other. They both relaxed some. Not much. But neither looked ready to kill something. She moved to the boys and checked them over.

"We need to get them back to Bobby's house." She said.

"Yeah." John said. He scanned the room. His brow furrowed as he noticed the overturned chair. "The trouble's unconscious in the bathroom?"

"Yeah." Bobby said. "And we need to deal with it soon." He and John needed to have a long talk with the demon. No reason for the boys to see any part of that. He threw Mary his keys. "Third one's the key to the car; fifth one's to the house. We'll meet you there."


	12. Chapter 12

Sam was alright. The woman that attacked him was scary but he was alright. And he was giving Mary a plus two for the knife. He clutched it in his pocket as she drove him and Dean back to the Bobby's house, the three of them crammed together in the front seat of Bobby's truck. Her arm was tucked around Sam like she thought he might run away. Sam glanced up at her. It wasn't like he was going to go anywhere even if he wasn't trapped between her and Dean. Right now, he wanted Dean and him to be with her and John and Bobby and safe. She jerked into the other lane, passed a slow moving truck, and pulled back into the right lane. Her driving needed work.

"So Flo was possessed?" Dean said.

"Yes, honey. But we'll deal with the demon. Don't worry about it."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Will she be okay, I mean, not the demon, but Flo? Will the nurse be okay?"

"I don't know." Mary patted Dean's arm and smiled down at Sam. "But we'll get the demon out of her. The important thing is that you're alright."

No one spoke for the rest of the ride. But as they climbed out of the truck, Dean said, "She was really nice to me, you know, before she was possessed." His eyes darted from Mary to Sam, and back to Mary. His voice was ripe with concern. "Flo was nice to me, Mom."

Sam didn't think Mary heard anything beyond 'Mom'.

"We'll take care of it."

Dean was still limping so Mary helped him into the house and Sam followed. He heard the rumble of the Impala in the drive. He peeked out the window and saw John and Bobby drive past the house to one of the large tin sheds outside.

Mary turned to them. "You two stay put. This room is warded and protected. I'll be back."

"Wait." Sam held out his hand to her. "You could stay with us." He didn't want him and Dean to be left alone. He wanted them to be protected. Not that Dean wouldn't protect Sam. He would. Sam knew he would. But if Mary left and John and Bobby were out also who was going to protect Dean. "Don't go."

"I'll be back, Sam." She ruffled his hair. "Keep the door locked." She told them.

"Wait." Sam said again. "Wait." His head felt funny like he'd been upside down and he legs were tired like he'd been running. "Don't leave us here alone. Don't-" Sam was scared. Fear rippled through his body, shaking his limbs, causing his words to catch in his throat.

Mary kneeled down. "Sam." She spoke softly. "I need to be part of this. You're safe here. I know I can't always protect you. But right here and right now, you're safe. You and Dean are both safe here."

She stayed there for another few minutes, rubbing his shoulder, saying soothing things. But her eyes kept darting towards the shed. She leaned closer, kissed his forehead, and stood up.

"Stay put." She said. "John or I will come back before dark and make you dinner." She walked to the door.

Maybe if he called her mom she'd stay. She'd lit up like sunshine the few times Dean had said it. Sam opened his mouth but his words were still locked in his body. He turned to Dean, trying to make him realize that Mary needed to come back. There were demons and harpies and ghosts out there. There were monsters everywhere. And maybe most people didn't see them, but Sam and Dean saw them plenty. Dean needed to tell her to come back.

But Dean wasn't paying attention. He leaned back on the couch, stretched, and his eyes closed drowsily. "Yeah. Okay." He said after the door closed and she was gone. Sam continued to stare at him until Dean sensed his agitation. His brother blinked his eyes open and his gaze fell on Sam. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam was scared. He didn't want to tell Dean that, though. Dean never admitted to being scared and Sam wouldn't either. "There are monsters trying to kill us." He said. "We should be with…" Sam hesitated. "With…Mom and Dad. Or Bobby. We shouldn't be alone."

"They said its safe here, Sam."

"Maybe they're wrong."

"I doubt it."

Sam shuffled on his feet. "We could go check on them."

Dean leaned forward and waved around the room. "Mom said to stay here."

"So." Sam said, curiosity suddenly battling his fear. "Don't you wanna know what they're doing? We should learn to exorcise demons, too. What if we get attacked again? They might not tell us what they find out and we should know."

"I don't know, Sam." Dean hesitated. "They'll get mad if they find out we left the house."

"They won't know. And we can see the shed from here, it's not far.'" Sam knew his brother was about to cave in. "Besides, if they find out we'll get to see how they act when they're really mad. That's good to know. You said to always find that out early."

"Yeah." Dean said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Okay."

Dean wouldn't let Sam help him walk but that was okay. He seemed happy to be moving on his own steam with only a slight wobble to his step. Halfway to the shed, Dean caught Sam's eyes, grinned big, and increased his pace. The air outside was crisp and clear. The sun shone against the cars piled in the yard, but did little to heat the cold air. Dean motioned Sam around the side of the structure. There was a gap in the tin panels.

Dean stilled before reaching it and cocked his head. Sam didn't know what he was doing at first. Then he realized he was listening. Sam heard a pitiful whimper echoing inside the building. Hushed and harsh voices fell over his ears next. Dean's brow was creased with worry and Sam understood. Their mom and dad were in there. What if they were in trouble? What if the demon had brought friends and outnumbered them? What if it was hurting them?

Dean motioned for Sam to stay. He moved faster and even quieter than he had been. A scream pierced the gap in the wall, a long pained wail that made Sam flinch. A woman's scream. Mary was getting hurt and all because she'd found Sam and tried to keep him safe. Dean ran to the hole and peeked inside the shed. Sam pulled out his knife and followed.

Dean pushed him back so he couldn't see inside. "Stay there." He whispered. "Don't look." Dean's face had paled and his hand shook where he held Sam away. He took a deep breath. "I…I need to look again."

The voices were clearer now that Sam was beside the gap. He could pick out the deep growl of John's words and Bobby's gruff tone. He heard Mary speaking, soft and serious. And there was another voice, sneering, breathless and feminine.

"We should go." Dean said. His face twisted in agony. "C'mon Sammy. You don't need to see this."

A loud smack slapped off the walls and filtered out of the space.

"Dammit Mary!" Bobby's rough cadence rang out. "There's an innocent woman in there. Stick to the holy water."

"I'm more concerned about the demon in her who tried to kill my _sons_." Her voice sounded scared and hard and mean in a way that made Sam feel strange and unsettled like he was spinning in circles. Mary spoke again. "I told Sam we'd do whatever it takes to protect him and Dean and I meant it."

Sam moved to look. Dean didn't stop. Instead he frowned sadly and peeked inside again with him. The woman who'd attacked them was tied to a chair. John slapped her.

"Tell us everything you know." He growled out, looming over the woman, "Or else." He raised his fist.

Bobby stepped in front of them. "What is wrong with you two! There's better ways to do this. This demon ain't going nowhere."

The woman lifted her head. Her eyes glinted darkly in the dim lit shed. She laughed.

"That's right, John. Wouldn't want to hurt the packaging." She cocked her head to the side and her blond hair fell over her shoulder in clumps sticky with blood. "But it's going to take more than a little holy water to make me talk."

"You'll talk." Mary said, pulling out her silver knife. "And you'll never touch my children again."

"Silver, huh?" The demon said. "That's not real effective against me. Growing up in the business, you should know that."

"I know." Mary said. "I also know that cutting anything into enough pieces is effective."

"That's a good idea. You know with Sam the order is clear. Rip his cute little head off. But with Dean…we could spend a little more time…get to know him, slash up that pretty face of his, cut him into little bitty bits until there's nothing left. We can send you Sam's head and few choice Dean bits, how about that?"

John yanked her by her hair and made her look at him. "You'll be back in hell. You'll never get near my boys again."

"I got out once. I can get out again." The demon grinned. "Playing with you is more fun than hell. Take your time. I'm sure the nurse with me in this meatsuit will enjoy it."

Bobby threw a bucket of water on her. She screamed, contorting in the chair. Steam fizzled off her skin. Her chest rose in sharp, hard breaths.

Bobby frowned, looked like he wanted to be somewhere else with someone else. He spoke in a serious tone. "I can get the hose. The whole tank is blessed." He tugged his cap down. "Who sent ya and why?"

She glared at Bobby before her eyes turned to scan the room, falling on John then Mary. She turned her head, staring towards the gap. Her face lit up and her eyes crinkled at the edges. She looked directly at Sam. "Lots of things are after the boy for lots of reasons. And it's not just Sam, not really. One look at the other one and, well, what wouldn't what to shred his flesh."

John kicked her chair over. The wood splintered, echoing loudly against the walls, against Sam's ears.

"It's time you started talking." He said. "What do you know about yellow eyes?"

"Yellow Eyes? You mean Azazel? I don't work for him." The words were breathless. Mean. "Nothing's free, hon. You want any more information? You're going to have to hurt the sweet nurse in here to hurt me. Or you're getting nothing. Them's the breaks…if you can you live with them."

Mary nodded at John.

He leaned over her prone form. "We've got no problem with that."

She turned her head, flattening her cheek against the rough ground. At first Sam thought she was looking at him again, but her sight path was higher. She was looking at Dean. "It'll hurt you more than me." She said and started laughing. She whipped her head back to John. "You'll regret this."

Sam was suddenly being pulled away from the gap.

"C'mon Sam. That's enough." Dean said jerking him towards the house.

"Dean?"

"Shut up." Dean hissed. He dragged him onto the porch and pushed him in the door. "I told you we should've stayed in the house. I told you that."

Sam didn't know if the troubled tremor in Dean's tone was because of what the demon had said or for what was going to happen to the nurse or because he didn't know what it all meant or what. Dean closed the door, swiftly and silently. His brother kept his gaze down and didn't look towards the shed.

"What are they going to do to her?" Sam said.

"How the hell should I know?"

Sam bit his lip. "They're not going to hurt her? The nurse. You said she was nice. They won't hurt her, will they?"

He didn't know why he'd asked Dean. Bobby had punched her. He'd had to do it to save them and Sam was okay with that. But she'd looked worse in the shed like she'd been beaten up. She was hurt already and they both had seen it. Dean didn't say anything.

"I mean." Sam said. "They won't hurt her _more_, will they?"

"I don't know, Sam." He said irritably. He hobbled over to the kitchen. "I'm hungry. You hungry?"

"Not really." Sam said sitting on the couch.

A few minutes later Dean brought him out a gigantic sandwich and plopped it messily in his lap. "Eat it anyway."

An hour later, Sam saw the doorknob jiggle. He grasped his knife. Dean tensed beside him and leaned closer.

"It's us, boys." John opened the door. He and Mary trudged inside. "We need to talk." He said motioning them to the table.

"Where's Bobby?" Dean said.

"Taking care of the nurse." John said.

"Right." Dean said. "If you say so." He nudged Sam and they resettled around the table.

Mary ruffled Sam's hair. He leaned into the touch, feeling safer with her and John close. Pulling away he stared down at his hands. They'd been scary in the shed. They'd been mean. But Sam hadn't seen them do anything else to hurt the nurse. He hadn't heard anyone screaming, so they probably hadn't hurt her anymore. And even if they had hurt her, they'd probably had no choice. It wasn't their fault if they didn't have a choice. Sam looked up at John and John smiled at him. That was the first time he'd done that. He glanced at Mary. She smiled, too.

She spoke softly. "Bobby thinks he knows a ritual that can remove the spell these demons are using to find you. It'll keep you better protected and you'll be able to use your real names."

Dean fidgeted in his chair, shuffling his weight like he could barely stand to keep still. "We could go back to Sam and Dean Smith. Maybe that would better."

"No need for that, Dean." John said.

Dean shrugged.

John continued. "And it's time we moved on. Mary and I, we were thinking we need a home base. Somewhere that you boys could go to school. We'll teach you how to protect yourselves, too." He rubbed his stubble. "We were thinking of somewhere near Seattle. But Mary thought we should get your opinions."

"I like-" Sam started.

"Seattle sucks." Dean said. "It friggin' rains all the time."

"Um…okay." Mary said. "We also were considering Tallahassee. How do you boys feel about Florida?"

Sam was more than okay with Florida. He hadn't been there, but he knew it was warm and Disney World was somewhere in the state. "Okay." He said.

"Sam, no." Dean shook his head. "It's hot and muggy and full of mosquitoes and old people. No way, dude."

"Have you even been to Florida, Dean?" John said.

"No, John." Dean said. "And that's mostly because it sucks." Dean fidgeted in his chair as John's eyes bore down on him. He huffed. "What's this ritual like anyway?"

"It's simple enough. We can do it at sunrise and it'll only take about fifteen minutes." Mary said.

Sam put his hand in his pocket. He wrapped it around the case. He could feel the rough parts where the flowers were carved into it. "You caught the demon, though." He said. "So we should be safe now, right?"

"We caught a demon, Sam." John sighed. "There're more out there, son."

"What did you find out?" Dean said.

Neither of them answered.

Mary put her hand on Sam's shoulder. "How do you feel about Philadelphia? We could get you enrolled in a good school system and there're lots of museums and universities nearby."

"That was on my list." Sam said. "It was third."

"Sounds boring." Dean said.

"Philadelphia, then." John said. "I'll make some calls."

Dean didn't understand the ritual much. They had to get up at some ungodly early hour and help Bobby, John and Mary set out silver platters and goblets in his chilly living room. It also involved a swarm of ants, and where Bobby got ants in South Dakota in February, Dean had no idea. He somehow removed Sam and Dean's 'name power' using the ants, or renamed the ants 'Sam and Dean Winchester' so lots of things had their names, or something else equally odd. He added on a second ritual which involved him pricking both their thumbs. For all the insects and blood, it was surprisingly dull.

"That should do it." Bobby said. "No one should be able to track the boys with their names." He chuckled. "No one should be able to track them period."

"You sure?" John said.

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

"Good." John said. He reached out to Bobby. "Thank you."

Bobby looked vaguely surprised. "Yeah. Well." He shook his hand. "I didn't do it for you."

"I know." John said. He caught Dean's eyes. "Your mother's packing the car. You two get your things. I want to be on the road in the hour." He set off for the back room.

Sam yawned. "Philadelphia is the home of Benjamin Franklin." He rubbed his eyes and headed for the bedroom. "Maybe we can see his gravestone."

Good god the boy was a freak. Dean waited until he was beyond earshot.

"So no one can find us now?" He asked Bobby.

"No." Bobby rummaged around, stepping on ants and picking up silver trays. "Doesn't mean you won't run into something, and sorry to say it, but it sounds like there's plenty looking, but nothing will be able to scrye for your location."

"Good." Dean lingered, watching him work. "Is Flo alright?" He said after a few minutes.

Bobby stopped puttering around to look at him. "She's alive." He said, finally.

"But is she alright?"

Bobby started piling stuff on the end table. "Hard to say after something like that."

Dean wanted to ask if he meant the possession or the interrogation but he wasn't sure he'd like the answer. He walked into the bedroom. Sam was packing.

"The Academy of Science is in Philadelphia." Sam turned, looked at Dean, creasing his brow. "And cheese steaks. The city's famous for those, Dean." Sam always seemed to think Dean could be bought with the promise of food.

"Do you still want to stay with them? John and Mary?"

Sam bit his lip and folded his shirt. "I subtracted a point and a half." He put it in his suitcase; the green one Mary had bought him. "For Flo." He explained, grabbing his leather case and setting in neatly inside. "For hitting her."

"That's all?"

"I thought you wanted to stay with them." Sam looked away. "I don't think they really hurt her, Dean. They're protecting us."

"They hurt her." Dean said in fast whispered words. Saying it aloud made it more real. Made him feel worse about it. About everything. "She was nice to me and they hurt her."

"Maybe they just hurt the demon." Sam said turning back to him.

Dean cursed. He picked up his suitcase – the orange one Mary had bought him. He hated orange. He had always hated orange. The mother he remembered would have known that. She wouldn't have bought him a stupid orange suitcase. He stuffed his clothes inside.

"They didn't just hurt the demon, Sam."

Sam folded another shirt, placed it on top of his coin case. "Do you not want to stay, Dean?" The words were strained like he didn't want to say them, like they hurt coming out.

"I didn't say that."

Sam stopped packing. He twisted his hands in the hem of his shirt and gazed down at the floor. "You said…you said they're our parents. They took care of you in the hospital. They did good with that. And they want us. I think they want _both_ of us, Dean. Mary promised they'd take care of us. She promised."

"I didn't say I wanted to leave, Sam."

Dean sat down on the bed. He put his face in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. He didn't want to leave. And Sam had become attached to John and Mary. Sam was like that. It took him a while sometimes, but then it was like he latched on to people with everything he had. So John and Mary had hurt Flo. She'd been possessed. So it was alright. Right? It wasn't like they'd hit Sam or something. The bed dipped and he felt Sam sit beside him.

"I don't think they'd hit either of us." Sam said. "And I don't think they wanted to hurt her, Dean."

Dean looked up. "Really." He said. "Because it looked to me like they didn't give a damn." He was overcome with annoyance. "Why are you defending them all the sudden?"

"I wanna be safe and I wanna go to school and I don't wanna have to find new parents again."

Yeah. Dean wanted that too. He did. But. He didn't know why he cared what they'd done to her. They were protecting Sam. Dean understood that. He did. And Bobby said Flo was alive. But…when they were talking to her…to the demon…Bobby was the only one who seemed to care about her. And John and Mary looked like they got off on hurting the demon. Flo was in there too. That's what they'd said. She wasn't a demon. She didn't deserve that.

"Dean?" Sam said.

"How do we know they won't hurt us?" Dean said. "We push John too hard or scare Mary too much, maybe they'll go all psycho on us? Maybe I was wrong about them."

"I don't think it's the same."

"Yeah. Well. We'll see about that." Dean said. He got up and went back to packing his clothes. "You never know until you know."

"Dean? What're you gonna do?" Sam said. "You've wanted them back since forever. Even when we thought they were dead you talked about how great they were."

"Well maybe they're not the parents I remember."

Sam's eyes got big and his chin wobbled. "Why don't we just ask them? Ask them why they hurt her. Maybe they had good reason, Dean."

"Oh. I intend to, Sammy."

Sam didn't seem to hear him. He kept babbling. "And the monsters can't get them like they got Frank and Beatrice because they know how to fight them." He paused. "And they took good care of you while you were sick. That's what's most important. They took care of you real good, Dean."

"Yeah. Once they finally noticed." Maybe that wasn't fair. Dean hadn't complained about his leg hurting. And they'd been running from demons and monsters while it was getting worse. And he hadn't wanted to go to the hospital. He slammed his bag shut. They should have noticed anyway.

John stomped up to the door. "Hurry up. We're leaving in five minutes. Go to the bathroom before we get on the road." His footfalls moved away.

"I wanna stay with them, Sam. I do. Hell. They're the best option we've got." Dean said. "I just don't know if I like them."

Sam was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "If you want to run away, I'll go with you. Even if we have to sleep in a car again."

He sounded miserable. Dean didn't want him to sound like that.

"I don't want to run away." Dean said. "But I'm tired of acting all nice nice, well-behaving for them."

"Dean." Sam sounded worried now. "They took care of you while you were sick. And you've already made them mad. You don't have to do it again."

Dean snorted. "Dude. C'mon." He shook his head. "I was going easy on them, you know, cause we're related and, maybe, I wanted them to like me. But I don't care about that anymore." He smirked. "I bet you one of your silver coins I can make John hit me."

"No." Sam said.

"Fine." Dean said. "You just know I'm gonna win."

"No. I…I don't think he'll hit you." Sam's tone was filled with uncertainty. "But I don't think you should push him." Sam shifted on his feet. "He's not gonna hit you, though."

"He hit Flo." Dean said. "So did Mary."

"She was possessed."

"So." Dean said.

Sam huffed. "Why do you wanna get him to hit you? Is it 'cause you wanna leave?"

"No." Dean said. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he heard John's heavy steps approaching. "I don't want to leave period. I just wanna know, that's all."

Sam was quiet again as he zipped up his bag. "Well if he hits you, I wanna leave." Sam frowned. "But he won't."


	13. Chapter 13

The art of truly, truly irritating someone was the slow build. And Dean had had years of practice. Hell, he even made Frank yell at him once. Of course, Frank looked guilty as heck for it. Which was stupid. Frank was a good guy. He never hit him. He hadn't even yelled that loud and Dean had kinda deserved to be yelled at for joy-riding on the tractor. That was the whole point. He frowned. And now Frank was dead. That's what he got for being an up-standing guy – a mailman with black eyes and a dagger slitting Beatrice's throat and then Frank's throat. Dean blinked at the scenery blurring past the window. His eyes itched.

"Hey. John." He said.

John tensed at his name but didn't call him on it. Dean knew he preferred 'sir'. No. Scratch that. John preferred dad. That was obvious. Well he'd have to earn that now. Dean was done with that pathetic bullshit.

"Dude. I gotta take a leak." Dean said. "Like now."

John turned his head to the side and Dean could see his nostrils flare. "We stopped forty-five minutes ago, Dean. You said you were fine. You said you _went_."

Sam cut his eyes at Dean. Dean smirked at his brother. Sammy was going to be impressed with this sequence. Dean was going to start slow, annoy, irritate, do whatever the hell he felt like, and he'd flush out Mary and John's true colors. Then he and Sam would know. They'd know what abusive bastards their parents were and they'd leave. Never spend another night dreaming about them being there. Hugging them. Protecting them. Because that wasn't real. They'd know and they'd get over it.

The more Dean thought about it the more sure he was that John and Mary were both bat shit. And maybe neither he nor Sam had hit their crazy button yet but it was just a matter of time. He'd show Sam what freaks they were and then Dean would get Sam the hell out of Dodge. Or Philadelphia. Wherever the hell they were going. And since Bobby had done the weird-ass spell, Dean suspected they'd be hard to find, too, if John and Mary ever came looking.

"Please." Dean said, smirking. No reason not to be polite. Not yet.

John huffed, glanced at his watch. Probably calculating how much time a stop would add to their trip. Mary stretched awake from where she'd been leaning against the passenger's side door.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She said, casting a sleepy eye his direction.

"I gotta see a man about a horse." Dean said. "And the horse is full of piss."

She cast John a frustrated glance. "Pull off, John. He just got out of the hospital. Remember?"

John's shoulders slumped down and he let out a sad breath. "Yeah. Alright. Next exit, kid."

Dean eyed him suspiciously. Kid? He was back to that already. Dean would put good money on the guy blowing up by tomorrow.

Mary turned back around, smiled warmly at Sam before turning to Dean. "We'll stop soon, Dean."

Now for the twofer.

"Thanks Mary." He said as warmly as he could.

Her face fell so fast that Dean almost felt guilty. Almost. But he wasn't fooled by the innocent act. They hurt more than monsters. They hurt people. Both of them. And they'd hurt him. They'd hurt Sam eventually if Dean didn't look out for the kid.

Dean stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes. He sat down on the lid, stretched his legs and chuckled. Every hour and forty minutes, he decided. He'd ask John to stop every hour and forty minutes. And John was a smart guy. He'd figure out Dean was screwing with him. Hell. Dean was trembling he was so excited. And this was only step one. This. This blowout was going to be epic. His best work ever.

So far Dean had wheedled four bathroom breaks on the freakin' long ass car ride across the country. And another hour and forty minutes had passed. Time for Act Five. He waggled his eyebrows over at Sam. Sam, for his part, frowned and looked down. Sam never could appreciate a good show. It was kinda sad really. This was mostly for his benefit, after all.

"Hey John." Dean said. "Dude. Sorry. But I need to drain the lizard."

John didn't say anything. He exchanged a look with Mary but Dean couldn't make out their expressions. But oh yeah. They were wise to him. He was certain. John pulled the car off at the next gas station anyway. Dean climbed out.

"I'll be back in five." He said.

"I'm coming with you." John lumbered out of the front. "Wait up."

Dean didn't wait. He slid in the bathroom, one of those one room deals with a toilet and a sink, and locked the door.

John pounded on the door. "Dean?" Yeah. He sounded irritated.

Dean didn't answer. He didn't sit on the toilet this time. The bathroom was disgusting with muddy footprints on the tile and toilet paper falling out of the trashcan.

"Uck." He said, toeing away a wadded bunch. He checked his watch. John didn't knock again. After ten minutes, he unlocked the door, plastered a grin on his face, and walked out to a furious John Winchester.

"All yours." Dean said. And then, because he wasn't quite ready for the blow out, he added, "Sir". He didn't want to get left in the middle of god knows where they were.

John smiled. He didn't look happy but his mouth turned up like he was faking friendly. "You wanna tell me what this is about?"

Dean shrugged. "I had to-"

"Dean." John stepped closer. "Stop screwing around. We're going to Philadelphia. I'm sorry if it's got your panties in a twist but you're too damn old for whatever game you're playing."

Dean crossed his arms. This was about a lot more than what city they were moving to. "The pain-killers I'm taking for my leg are upsetting my stomach. That's all." He shrugged. "I didn't wanna worry you."

John rubbed his hand over his chin, gazed at Dean like he was sizing him up, like he didn't really buy his bullcrap. And Dean could respect that. It was bullcrap. He eased a grin over his face. His stomach flip-flopped. Sometimes he got nervous before these things went down.

"Dean." John warned. "I don't want anymore-"

And Dean threw up. Right on John's boots. He wasn't sure who was more surprised, him or John. Dean stayed, hunched over, staring at the ground. Well. Shit. That wasn't what he wanted to do.

"Sorry." He said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "I…uh…I." His power to make words must have spewed out with his lunch.

John rested a tentative hand on his back. "You can rest in the car." He said. "I'll-" He sighed, long and loud and like he still didn't quite believe Dean was sick. "I'll stop in about an hour and a half."

Dean considered correcting him. He'd asked him to stop every hour and forty minutes. The man was ten minutes off his game. But his stomach was dancing and he was afraid if he opened his mouth he'd throw up again.

About ten hours and several more bathroom breaks later, they pulled up to a small house with a small yard. The street was illuminated by yellow street lights.

"There're only two bedrooms." Mary said. "You and Sam will have to share, but I thought that might be nice for you boys to be together while we get settled. It's not much, but the school system is supposed to be quite good. It's the best I could do on short notice." She sounded apologetic.

Dean considered the house. It was too dark outside to make out any details. "I've seen worse." He said. Mary smiled at him. He added, "But not by much," and hopped out of the car.

The next morning Mary announced she was taking them to breakfast and then getting them enrolled in school.

Sam hugged her. He reached out and hugged her. "Really?" He said.

"Really." She said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Can't we wait until the new school year?"

Sam huffed. Mary shook her head.

"It's only February." She said. "The sooner we get you enrolled, the better."

"We don't legally belong to you." He said. "We're wards of the state." He glanced around the small living room. "The state of Oklahoma. Not Pennsylvania. They might notice that at the school."

"Bobby's helping us get the right papers. Don't worry about it. We've got it covered, Dean."

"We're not dogs."

Mary laughed. "I know. But you're ours and we need to be able to prove it." She reached out like she was going to hug him.

Dean flinched away. "Can we get breakfast, Mary? If we're yours, you should probably feed us, right?"

"Right." She said. Her brows arched and she studied him for a long minute. "Right, Dean. Are you feeling better today, sweetie?" She said.

"I'm fine." He crossed his arms and glared at her. He didn't need her sympathy. This wasn't about sympathy.

Sam shuffled on his feet beside Dean. His gaze was turned down, but Dean could read the tension in his small frame. He was thinking hard about something. He looked up and shot Dean an apologetic glance. "Where's Dad?" Sam said quietly. Then, he repeated himself, a little louder, looking straight at Mary. "Mom, where's Dad?"

Dean thought Mary might melt right through the floor. She stammered, choked up. "He-he's…" She cleared her throat. "He's making sure the house is paid for through the month, getting groceries, that kind of thing, Sam."

Dean stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door. Sam was trying to sabotage him. Sam wanted to stay and he was trying to derail all Dean's work at pissing them off. He'd done that with Frank and Beatrice, too. Dean would just have to up his game. Sam was a sneaky little bastard but Dean was older and meaner. He came out to find Mary and Sam at the door.

"Dean?" She said, but she didn't look annoyed, she looked concerned. That was the wrong emotion.

"Let's eat!" He said smiling. He'd continue after food.

Mary nodded, slowly, and went to get her purse. Dean took the opportunity to glower at Sam.

"What's the hell, Sam?"

"I want us to stay." He said. "You're wrong. So stop it."

"I'm not wrong. And we can stay either way."

"No. We can't." Sam frowned. "You called her Mom. I wanted to call her that once too. Before you get us kicked out."

"Fine." Dean hissed. "Hey." He said with venom he didn't mean to turn towards his little brother. "Maybe they'll let you stay and just kick me out. Then you can have them all to yourself."

"Dean." Sam sounded annoyed. "We stay together. No matter what."

"Remember those Smithsons people that fostered us. They only wanted to keep you. You liked them too." Dean felt his face heat. "Maybe John and Mary will be just like that. Two more days and some kindly old social worker can come and pick me up and awkwardly explain to me why you're better off without me and why it took the Smithson's less than a week to figure out they didn't want me. It'll be like old times. Fun."

"I wanna stay with you." He was swiping at his eyes with his sleeves now. "You know that, Dean. You _know_ that."

Dean wanted to shut up. Instead, he said, "Sure you do, Sammy."

Mary came back. She looked at Sam crying and Dean glaring, put her hands on her hips, and glared back at Dean. "What's going on here?"

"Sam's being a baby." Dean said. "He's good at it, too." He wasn't sure why he was so mad at Sam all the sudden. But it seemed to be making Mary mad, too, so it was working out fine.

"Dean-" She started. And Dean heard it in her voice now. She was angry. She was gonna blow. He'd bet on John losing it first, but, hey, this was just as good.

"M'sorry." Sam said suddenly. "Mary. I'm sorry. I was bein' mean to him."

Sam said Mary. It was a sign of solidarity. It was good. Dean felt like crap for it.

Mary frowned, wiped away Sam's tears with her thumbs. "Is that really what happened here, Sam?"

Sam nodded. Of course, he nodded. Because Sam was an awesome little brother who everybody loved and Dean was a jerk that was like the extra baggage that came with him. Dean's stomach hurt again. He'd meant to upset Mary, not Sam.

"It's okay, Sammy." He said, forcing a grin.

Mary stood up. She shot him an expression that reminded him of every teacher that had ever sent him to the principal's office. "I think you should apologize to your brother, too, Dean."

Dean smirked at her. He didn't speak.

"You can apologize, Dean." She said. "Or you can go to your room for a time out while we get breakfast."

"A time out? Are you kidding me?" He snickered and glanced at Sam because hell, a time out, that was like for toddlers. Matter of fact, Dean had vague memories of her putting him in time outs when he was three and four years old. The woman needed to get with the times. But Sam didn't look amused. He looked terrified.

"No! He needs to come. He needs to stay with me." Sam's voice toughened up. "If he stays, I stay." He set his stance hard and stubborn. "I don't care how much of jerk he's being."

Mary took awhile to speak. Finally, she said. "Alright. Let's go." She exhaled and seemed to release some of her anger. "So, we'll get you both enrolled in school."

"I'm in the fourth grade." Sam told her quietly.

"Right." She said, looking like she was filing the information in folders in her brain. "That's what I thought."

"I'm in tenth." Dean said. If she didn't catch the lie, he'd announce it after he was registered at the high school. Mary wouldn't like that. Maybe she'd blow.

Her brows drew together. "Tenth? You're only fourteen. I thought you were in the ninth."

"I turned fourteen in January!" And Dean was mad. He was shaking with anger. "I'm in the eighth grade. Eighth. It's not rocket science to figure that out!" He wasn't hungry. He stalked back to the bedroom. "I'll be here when you get back." He said so Sam wouldn't worry. Well. Sam would probably worry anyway, but Dean didn't know what else to do.

John called Bobby. "You found anything?" They hadn't gotten much from the demon in the interrogation, but they'd gotten a name. Flo had mentioned Andras.

"_Andras is a demon of dissension. Mutiny. A basic trouble maker. But a high level one."_

"That won't stop me from sending him back to hell."

"_Ain't an option. I'm fairly certain Andras is already camped out there. I'm guessin' he sent that demon after Sam for entertainment. Legend says Andras has a handful of sons and daughters. He sends them up two at a time to compete for his favor."_

"You saying this demon went after my son for the fun of it?"

"_For glory." _Bobby let out an annoyed huff. _"And it's a demon, John. Getting off on other people's pain is its thing."_

"You think the demon in Flo was the same one that killed my boy's foster parents. It didn't say anything."

"_Maybe. But I'd bet good money it was sent by the same evil sonuvabitch." _

John rubbed his forehead. "It would have said something." Demons liked to brag about their misdeeds. There was another one out there. "You sure the boys are hidden from this Andras and his lackeys?"

"_Yeah. 'Bout as sure as I can be." _Bobby paused. _"You understand this isn't the same demon that took them ten years ago."_

"Trust me. I know." John sighed. "That yellow-eyed bastard's a slippery sonuvabitch. Mary and I still don't have a feeler on him but I don't think he wants them dead. But we won't let him take them again. Not as long as either of us is breathing." John squinted into the sunlight. "How many sons and daughters are we talking about?"

"_Legions. But if were trusting the lore, you only have to worry about two. And you've already sent one of the them back to hell. You only got one to worry about."_ The line was silent. Finally, Bobby spoke. "_And it should be jack out of luck for finding the boys." _

"It's still out there."

"_You sure you just don't wanna let this go? Get settled with that family of yours."_

"Can you promise the other one won't find them?"

"_I learned real quick not to make promises like that, John." _

Bobby always was a sharp one. John leaned against the side of the phone booth and watched his breath fog in the cold air.

"How do we track it?" He said.

"_Well." _John could hear Bobby's brain working over the line. Bobby said, in a sly tone, _"You know, if we find out its name, maybe we can use some of its own magic against it. Find the bastard that way."_

"Didn't ask Flo her real name."

"_Yeah. That was a mistake." _Bobby said. _"You said Dean saw the demon that attacked his foster parents?"_

"According to Sam, yeah."

"_See what the kid remembers. I got a list of demons connected to Andras. If Dean remembers any details, maybe we can figure out which one it is. I'll send you the info." _He was silent again. _"How're the boys doin'?"_

John took a moment. Sam was quiet. Dean was moody.

"They're fine." He said.

"_Good." _Bobby didn't sound like he believed it. _"Those are fine kids you got there, John. You tell them they need anything, they call me."_

John couldn't help but bristle with annoyance. They were his and Mary's kids; they'd give them what they needed. "I saw you're phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper in Dean's coat."

"_Yeah. Well. If something happens to you and Mary, I wanted them to have someone they could contact."_

John didn't have a reply for that. "Send me the info." He said. "I'll talk to Dean."

"_Be gentle. The kid was worried sick about the nurse."_

John didn't know that. He was annoyed he didn't know that. "I know how to handle my kid." He said and hung up.

He returned home at two in the afternoon. Mary was sitting on the floor, sharing a granola bar with Sam, and the door to the bedroom was closed.

"Dean needed some personal time." She said, motioning to the door. "We haven't been to get them registered yet."

"Uh-huh."

She turned to Sam. "Sam, your father and I need to talk for a minute. Will you tell me if your brother comes out?"

"No." Sam's tone was defiant. But his eyes were red, puffy, and still watery. John wondered how long he'd cried.

Mary forced a smile. John sensed the effort behind it, how hard it was for her to make the gentle expression stick as she gazed down at Sam.

"We won't be long." She palmed his cheek. "And we'll get you something to eat."

They moved to the kitchen. It was a nice spot. John could still see the closed door. Mary's eyes stayed locked on it. But it was business first with her. It had been that way for ten years and Mary was finding it hard to change that. They both were. He told her the news.

"Well, we've got to hunt down this other demon." She said. "No doubt."

"I agree."

She sighed. "Dean locked himself in the bedroom hours ago." Her fingers twitched. "I'm tempted to pick the lock. But." She looked down the hall and smiled at Sam. "I don't know what's wrong. Maybe he needs time to himself. Maybe he needs us to break down the door. John, I don't know."

"Maybe the medicine's making the kid moody." His eyes wandered to the lock door. "He needs to come out. This temper tantrum crap has got to stop."

"I don't want to force him." Mary leaned back against the wall. "I swear, John. I think he's looking for a fight."

"Maybe it's hormones. He is fourteen. And we need to talk to him." John eased a sly grin over his face. "You're about to remember why you married me." He said striding toward the door. He knocked twice. "Dean!" No answer. No surprise there. "Come out, son. I wanna teach you to drive the car."

He heard a shuffling from the room. The lock clicked. The door opened slowly.

Dean stepped out with a suspicious expression. "You're gonna let me drive the Impala?"

"It's a skill I'd like you to have."

"That's funny. I figured you wouldn't want me driving it…let's see…until never. Or at least until I'm sixteen and can get a license."

"I could give a rat's ass about what the state says. You're tall enough. And I can get you a license that says you're sixteen now. So I'm gonna teach you to drive her. You really got a problem with that, kid."

Mary stood beside him with a stunned look on her face. She bounced on her feet like it was taking all her control not to reach out and pull the boy to her. But Dean looked like a cornered dog about to bolt. This wasn't the time for any sudden movements.

Dean turned to her. "And you're okay with this, Mary? Me driving?"

John couldn't tell exactly how Mary felt about Dean driving but he knew she hated being addressed as Mary. She forced another one of her loving smiles and said, "I'm fine with it. As long as we get lunch and get you and Sam registered for school before you and your father go practice."

"Wait." Sam said, getting up off the floor. "Wait. I wanna learn to drive, too." He crossed his arms, stood up straight, and stared down John. "I'm tall enough."

Well. Hell. John closed his eyes. Maybe this wasn't his best idea after all. He considered Sam. His face was still splotchy and he looked like he'd be pissed if John said no. He and Mary really couldn't handle more than one of them throwing a fit at a time. He'd had to resort to damn bribery to get Dean out of the bedroom.

"I'll make a deal with you." He grinned at Mary and said to Sam, "I'll teach you to drive when you turn ten. I think you need to be in the double digits _and _be tall enough."

Sam looked like he might argue that he should learn now. But then he nodded, seemed to decide it was fair, and said, "I'll remember that in May," and John had no doubt he would.

John ushered Sam out towards the Impala. "Let's get lunch."

From behind him, he heard Mary say, "I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to upset you," to Dean and, "It'll be nice to eat together as a family."

John turned back to see Dean jog away from her. Dean glanced at John and then at Mary.

"I'm coming for the food, the car, and my brother." He said, grinning. "You two don't have to keep up with this pretending to care routine. Besides I know you're pissed I locked myself in my room."

"Dean." Mary said, reaching out to him again. "We do care."

"Yeah?" Dean said, frowning. "Maybe you think you do. But, seriously, you don't even know me."

John turned back. "Look, kid. That's not true." He said. This was getting frustrating. "And we're not mad at you."

Dean pursed his lips, he smiled slowly and slyly. "If I told you that last night while you all were sleeping I rummaged in the trunk, found about fifteen guns, and had a helluva good time pretending to shoot out the street lights, then would you be mad at me?" He grinned at their shocked expressions.

"There'd be consequences." John said.

"Yeah. Like what?"

John didn't answer. Mary frowned beside him.

"I tell you what." Dean said, "I'll let you think about it and get back to me." He got in the car.

John resisted the urge to immediately go inventory the trunk. This was one of those moments where it was important to examine the situation before acting. Rash actions could backfire.

Mary leaned towards him and spoke in a whispered tone. "I don't think he really did it."

"And if he did?" John said, because he was fairly certain Dean was being completely honest.

"He's still a good kid, John." She said.

"He's pushing pretty hard." His fingers itched. He needed to check the car. Check the weapons. "We need to deal with the boy. Guns aren't toys. And he better not of broken the trunk lock."

"I agree." She said. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear, squared her shoulders, and walked to the car.

John shook his head, closed his eyes. He took in a few deep breaths. It be important to be calm during lunch. He had a feeling it was going to be long and difficult. Mary was in the car when he opened his eyes. But Sam was standing in front of him. Fidgeting.

"Please just don't hit him." Sam said before running over to the car and getting inside of it, too.

John stared after him. What the hell did that mean? Don't hit him? Of course, John wasn't going to hit him. He didn't hit his sons. Why would Sam even think that? His jaw clenched. No one else had better of hit either of them either. He got in the car. Slammed the doors.

"So." Dean said from the back, voice smug and loud. "I take it you thought about it."

"Yeah." John turned back. He knew how to play this one. "Your mother and I think if you're interested in guns you should know how to use them. You're getting a shooting lesson after your driving lesson."

The car was silent for a moment.

"What?" Dean said.

John pulled them on the road. "Mary and I have a lot of weapons. You should have a fundamental knowledge and respect for them."

"Dude." Dean voice was confused, high-pitched. "Dude. Do you really want to give me a gun to shoot?"

John shrugged. "We trust you with a gun, Dean." He said. That shut the boy up. John chuckled watching the twinned shocked expressions on his sons in the rearview.

Mary cleared her throat. She turned to the back, loving expression locked in place. "And we'll start giving you lessons after your birthday, Sam." She said. "It's a necessary precaution with our line of work."

"Yeah. Okay, I guess." Sam said. He sounded confused, too. "But I'm happy with my knife." He announced, pulling the switchblade form his pocket. "Maybe I could do knife lessons while I'm still in the single digits."

Now there was nothing forced about Mary's happy face. "I'm partial to blade fighting myself." She said. "That's a great idea."

Sam beamed in the back seat. Dean rolled his eyes and stared out the window. John heard him shuffling around on the leather. As they pulled into the diner, Dean leaned forward between the front seats.

"Okay." Dean said. "Let me get this straight. I lock myself in my room, break into the car, and play with the guns, so you two decide the best way to handle all that is to teach me to drive the car and shoot the guns?"

"Don't you want to learn to drive and shoot?" Mary said.

"Of course, I wanna learn to drive and shoot." Dean said. "Who the hell wouldn't?"

"Then what's the problem?" John parked in the mostly empty diner parking lot.

"Nothing." Dean shrugged and said. "So what happens if I lift some guy's wallet? What are the consequences for that?"

"We'd be proud." John said. "You'd be contributing to the family income."

"He's kidding Dean." Mary said quickly. "We only lift wallets when we're desperate." She must've realized how ridiculous she sounded because she added, "Don't steal anyone's wallet, please." Then she cut John a look that told him enough was enough. "No one should steal anything without telling us first."

"Okay." Dean grinned. "But if I happen to find someone's wallet I should share the loot."

"No-" Mary started.

"Now you're getting it." John said.

Sam leaned forward next to Dean. "I'm not stealing." He said.

"Of course not, sweetie." Mary said. "You let John and I worry about that."

Dean laughed.

"That's not what I meant." She said rubbing her forehead.

Dean stopped laughing quickly, though, like he remembered he was trying to be a pain in the ass. "You're criminals." His face turned hard. "I should've figured as much."

"We're hunters. Some liberties with the law are a necessity of the job." John turned off the car and turned back to him. "Are you taking issue with our parenting skills, kid?"

Dean smiled. "Not until after I learn to drive."

"And shoot." John reminded him.

"Yeah. That too." Dean said. "But you're asking for trouble. I'm good at raising hell."

"That's a Winchester family trait. One we're damn proud of." John said, stepping out onto the hard pavement and crisp air.

But Dean huffed as he climbed out and stood beside him. "I don't get you." He sounded tired and frustrated and he was frowning again. "I don't think you're understanding me here."

"What aren't we understanding, Dean?" Mary rubbed hands to warm them. She bent down and pulled up the zipper on Sam's jacket much to his nine year old dismay.

Dean held up his hand. "Look. I'm not a good kid. I'm a bad kid. I'm the type of kid you're gonna want to hit and you're gonna want to get rid of. And I know you're capable of it. I saw what you did to Flo. We both saw you!" Dean was yelling now. "And Sammy and I don't stay with people who are violent. It's not safe for him. So you should go ahead and do your worst so we can leave!"

Sam gaped. Then he looked up between John and Mary with a silent plea to fix this shit situation.

"Dean-" Mary tried to pull him into a hug, but he wrenched away. She kept her arm outstretched. "We're always going to want you and Sam and we won't hurt you."

"I don't believe you."

"Sweetheart-"

"I don't believe you!" He was coiled up tighter than a rattlesnake about to strike.

John recognized Dean's anger, hot, lashing, and about to burst out. He'd felt it often enough himself. The boy needed to let it out. John shook his head. The boy really needed to let it out before John gave him a damn gun this afternoon.

"Mary." John said, nodding towards the diner. "Give me and Dean a minute."

She looked at him, looked back at Dean and then nodded. "Alright."

"We'll be inside in a minute." John told her.

Grabbing Sam's hand, she said, "They're only going to talk, Sam. We'll be able to see them from the window." Sam looked uneasy as she pulled him into the building. John saw her kneel down and speak gently to him at the door.

He turned his attention to Dean. Dean's fists were clenched; his knuckles were white and his body rigid.

"It's time you and I got something straight, Dean."

"You know what, John. Fuck. You."

"What did you say to me?" John growled out. Because no way in hell did that kid just said fuck you to him. Dean was too smart to be mouthing off like that. He stepped closer. Waited. Gave Dean a chance to correct John's hearing.

"I said." Dean smirked holding his gaze. "Fuck you, _Sir_."

John reached out. The kid flinched but John could worry more that after he and Dean clarified some things. Because John understood now. John might be a stubborn, oblivious bastard but he was smart and Dean's behavior was suddenly making sense. He put his hands on his son's shoulders, looked down at Dean, and made sure Dean could see how serious he was.

"You looking for a beating, son?" He said.

Dean swallowed hard, but kept his eyes latched on to John's gaze. His kid was tough like that. It didn't surprise John at all.

"Because that's not gonna happen." He growled out. "You need to understand that. You need to get it through your thick skull." He pulled him into a tight hug. Dean tried to wriggle away. But John was older and stronger and he had no intention of letting him go. "And you can fight all you want, but we're keeping you. So get the hell used to it." Then he added. "And don't you ever say fuck you to me again."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Sam sat beside John on the curb. He glanced back at the abandoned office building and then out at the Impala bumping through the empty pot-hole ridden lot. John's mouth twitched each time the car hit another hole.

"I thought you were gonna teach Dean to drive?" Sam said.

"Your mother really wanted to be the one to teach him." He cringed as the engine revved. "I'll handle the shooting."

"She didn't say anything. How do you know she wanted to teach him?"

"I know." John said in a low tone and grimacing as the car circled, hitting the same deep crevasse in the asphalt. "He's doin' that on purpose." He mumbled.

Sam rested his chin in his hands. "Yeah." He said. "Probably."

"It's gonna mess up the alignment." John sighed irritably and stretched his legs out. "So how're you doin' kiddo?"

"It's Sam." Sam corrected.

"Okay." John said. "So how're you holdin' up, Sam?"

Sam considered the question. "I'm okay." He said. "Considering."

John glanced at the circling car with another grimace before he turned his attention back to Sam. "Considering what?" He sounded grumpy.

Sam sighed. John always sounded grumpy.

"Everything." Sam shrugged. "But you're not that bad. We've had worse parents."

"That so?" John's unhappy glower turned curious. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." Sam wasn't in the mood to share. "We've had better, too."

John wasn't exactly super high with Sam's parent point ranking but he hadn't hit Dean yet. Sam placed his chin against his palms. And he'd hugged Dean in the diner parking lot. Then when John and Dean finally came inside Mary hugged Dean, too, over and over again. She'd hugged Sam several times already also. She was a hugger. It was like she greeted Sam and Dean with hugs instead of handshakes. John was different. He'd only hugged Dean once. And he'd never hugged Sam. Not that Sam was keeping count of that or anything. It was just an observation. And Sam docked him a point for it. If Dean was hugged, Sam should be hugged, and vice versa.

"But I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt." Sam added. "As a parent."

"Yeah. Why's that?"

"Dean likes you."

He grunted. "Could've fooled me."

The car missed the pothole this round. Sam watched it then pull out of the lot and onto the road.

"Where're they going?" He frowned. "They're coming back, right?"

"Mary's just letting him take her around the block. It's good practice." He raised an eyebrow. His attention focused completely on Sam. "So Dean likes me, huh?"

"He liked you more before you slapped the nurse."

John's brow creased. "How much of that did you see, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. He'd seen more than enough.

"Sam, I had good reason. So did Mary."

"That's what I told Dean." Sam pulled his jacket tighter. "That you must've had good reason to do that." He chewed on his bottom lip. "I believe you." He looked down at his knees. "But I don't understand why you did it."

"She was possessed."

Sam processed that. "There was a demon in her. That's why she attacked us and had black eyes."

"That's right."

He expected a better reason. "But Flo was also in there?"

John leaned back. He rested his hand on the pavement behind Sam and Sam felt the warmth of his arm near his back. It didn't quite qualify as a hug, though.

"Possessed peoples' bodies are out of their control. The demon gets in and the person looses themselves."

"Do they know they're possessed? Maybe if they knew, they could take back control." Sam believed in mind over matter.

"It's not that simple. A lot of people are conscious during possession. They can hear, see, and feel everything the demon does but they can't stop them. Demons are evil bastards, Sam."

Sam glanced up at John. "If Flo felt everything the demon did, you shouldn't have hit her. Dean was right."

"Sam." John's voice rang out low and frustrated. "It's not that simple."

Sam turned to watch the car bounce back into the lot. "I think it is." He said.

"It's not."

Sam held his gaze. John's face was hard and his jaw was set stubbornly. Sam turned away.

"I want a better reason." Sam said.

"We needed to protect you, Sam."

"No." Sam said. "We were safe when that happened."

John pulled his hand back from where it was settled beside Sam and the rush of cold air made Sam shiver.

John rubbed it across his face. "You're just gonna have to trust me on this, Sam."

"I want to understand." That was more than fair. Sam had stood up for him and Mary. All John had to do was explain to him why they did it. Then Sam would explain it to Dean and they could all be happy. John didn't answer. Sam wondered if it was because he didn't want to answer or because he couldn't offer a better reason for his actions.

"It's okay this time, though. I'm gonna give you another chance as a parent."

"That's generous."

Sam glared up at him. Sam was being generous here. He'd already given John like seven chances. This was number eight. That was more than he'd given anybody else.

"Yeah, it is. You're lucky." Sam breathed in the cold air. "If I tell Dean to go, we'll go. I told him you wouldn't hit him. I defended you. So you're lucky."

"I didn't hit him." John frowned. "I wouldn't hit him."

"What if he was possessed?" Sam said. "Then you'd hit him. And he wouldn't be in control but he'd still get hurt."

"I won't hurt either of you."

"You hit Flo." Sam knew he had this argument won. It made his chest ache and his eyes sting.

"It's not the same thing."

"It is the same thing." He said quietly.

John stood up. "Look, Sam, I've exhausted my patience dealing with your brother. We'll make this work." He sounded annoyed. "Mary and I will do that. But you're going have to trust me. I know what's best for you and your brother. Got it."

"I said I'd give you another chance." Sam said, sniffing. It struck him suddenly how unfair this was. "When you got mad at Dean you offered to teach him to drive and shoot and hugged him in the diner parking lot. You're being mean to me. I just wanted you to explain it to me. I haven't even been bad."

John's face softened. "We're going to teach you to drive and to shoot, too."

Sam huffed.

"And handle your knife." John plopped back down on the curb beside him. "I'm not mad at you, you know," he said after a moment.

Sam didn't answer.

"I'm trying here Sam." The next words came out of his mouth awkwardly and low in tone. "I…uh…I appreciate you giving me another chance."

"Yeah. Well. You should."

John chuckled. "You're a good kid, Sam." His eyes moved across the lot to the stationary car. It was parked but Mary and Dean hadn't climbed out yet. "I might need more than one more chance." He turned to Sam. "Just understand, kiddo, I want what's best for you. I want you safe. And I'll do what I have to do to make that happen."

Sam didn't like the sound of the words. And John wasn't really agreeing to anything, but Sam did feel safer. He rolled his eyes.

"I'll give you more chances." He said, and so John understood that Sam was being very generous and this wasn't something he normally would agree to he added, "But it's only because you're my dad."

John was quiet for a moment. "Fair enough." He got up and held a hand out for Sam. "Let's get back to the car."

Sam grabbed on and let him pull him to standing. Then Sam was being pulled off his feet. John had picked him up and wrapped his arms around him.

"I'm trying, Sam." He said.

Sam nodded and put his arms around John's neck. Sam deserved a hug as much as Dean. More so, actually. Although he wasn't too keen on being picked up. Nine was too old for that. He opened his mouth to say as much but the words stuck in his throat. His eyes stung and his chest tightened. Sam squeezed his eyes tight to stop. He didn't know why he was upset. He hid his face in John's shoulder hoping he wouldn't notice. John set him down and kneeled beside him.

"Your brother did that when I hugged him, too." He chuckled, wiping his eyes. "You boys are gonna give me a complex."

"It just happened." Sam kept his eyes on his feet. "I don't…I'm sorry." He'd cried in front of Mary earlier. They were going to think he was a crybaby. "Wait. Dean did that, too?"

"Yeah." John pulled him close. "He said it was because I traumatized him when I pulled him to me."

"Well. Dean says he doesn't like to be hugged." Sam told him. He paused. "I don't mind so much, though."

"Good to know."

Sam looked up at him. "I don't really believe him."

"You're a smart boy."

Dean snuck out of the bedroom window at ten after two in the morning. It was cold and clear. Despite the glow of the city, he could see stars sprinkled in the night sky. Dean breathed in the icy air and walked to the driveway. He wanted to apologize to the car. He hadn't really considered her feelings when he was trying to irritate John. He petted the hood. The metal chilled his palm.

"Sorry, sweetheart." He said. "But I knew you could handle it."

"You make it a habit of talking to cars, son?" John said.

Dean jumped. He turned towards the direction of the voice. John was at the top of the drive, leaning against the house. Dean couldn't make out his expression in the darkness, but his stance and voice held the makings of amusement.

"Uh." He said. "No. Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people in the dark?"

"Not usually people. But things." John sighed. "I really hope you weren't thinking about getting into the trunk again. Cause if that's the case, I'm gonna make you clean the guns. And Mary and I have seventeen of them."

"I already cleaned the guns after you taught me to shoot." Dean said. And after cleaning the first five, it had stopped being fun. "They don't need to be cleaned again."

John laughed. "That's why it's punishment, Dean."

He nodded to the car. "Maybe I was gonna take her for a spin."

"You don't have a key." John said. "I don't know if you know how to hotwire a car or not, but you sure as hell better not try it on this one. Got it."

"Yeah." Dean didn't want to do that to the car anyway. "Okay."

John pushed off the wall. "Do you know how to hotwire a car?"

"In theory." Dean said.

"I'm going to have to teach you that." John mumbled like he was adding it to a mental list he kept. He walked up beside Dean and leaned against the hood. "Why are you out here?"

"Why are you?"

John took in and out three deep breaths. His nostrils flared with each inhale. Dean smirked. Annoying John was fun and _easy_.

"You need another hug or are you just being a smartass." John finally said.

"I came out here to think." Dean looked at his feet. He did not want another awkward, tear-inducing hug. That was the last thing he wanted. "I needed to think."

"It's cold." John said.

"Yeah." Dean's breath fogged the area in front of his face. "I noticed."

John nodded. "I always think better in the cold." He paused. "You're a damn good shot."

"Dude." He'd hit every target. "I'm like a gun prodigy or something." It was the most awesome part of the day. Dean had been impressed. Mary had been impressed. Sam had seemed a little bored, but mainly impressed. "I'm an awesome shot." John had even looked impressed.

"It's good to know you're modest." John said, shrugging. "Maybe it was beginners' luck."

Dean's pride slinked away. "Whatever." He said. "I'm going inside."

John placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Wait."

"I don't want to be hugged. Go see Sam."

"Just wait." John said. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

Dean didn't like the tone of John's voice – the emphasis on 'important'. It sounded like it was a talk John didn't want to have. Like it was a talk he knew Dean wouldn't enjoy. Like it was a talk about life and death and Sam. Dean turned back.

"Okay."

"That's why I came out here. To consider how to broach the subject without upsetting you."

Dean eyed him wearily. "What subject?"

"What happened to your foster parents?" Before Dean could speak John added, "Frank and Beatrice. And I know how they died, but I need to know what you saw. Sam said you saw the demon."

"I don't want to talk about that." Dean eased himself back so he could lean against the car.

"Yeah." John said. "That's why I'm out here, trying to figure out how to broach the subject."

Dean glanced up at the stars. "I guess you already did." He said.

"Seemed like a good time." He said. "Your mother's going to be upset with me, though. We were supposed to talk to you together over breakfast."

"Why do you need to know?"

"The demon in Flo wasn't the only one after you. The one that killed you foster parents is still out there."

Dean's blood turned cold.

John shifted beside him. "Mary called Bobby tonight. Asked him about Flo." He cleared his throat. "He's checked on her. She's...she's holding up so far. If you were curious."

Dean wondered if that was true. He'd call Bobby and find out. As for the rest, "I don't wanna talk about it," he said. He didn't.

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Even a small detail might help us track this thing." John's voice became tougher. "You need to tell me." It didn't sound like a request. "That demon is still out there, Dean."

Dean hugged his arms to his chest. The demon was out there. It could be hurting people. Hell. Who was Dean kidding? It was still hurting people – whoever was unlucky enough to cross its path. And if it found Sam, it would hurt him, too.

"Yeah." He said. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good." John sounded surprised. There was silence for a moment. Then John sighed and said, "We can wait until morning. If you want Mary here."

Dean envisioned her face – the gentle one he remembered from when he was a toddler, not the harsh one he'd seen when she was interrogating the nurse. His throat tightened. Telling Mary and John what had happened in the morning over eggs and bacon was the last thing he wanted. He'd probably get halfway through, catch his mother's concerned eyes, and cry. Hell. Dean would never admit it to anyone but himself, but his eyes leaked more than any guy's should. It was better to tell John here and now with the icy air numbing Dean's cheeks and the darkness hiding his face.

"No. I'll tell you now." Dean said. "I wanna get it over with."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

_AN: Sorry for the delay. I had some real life things that kept me from working on this until recently. Thank you for the feedback. I hope you enjoy.  
_

"I told Sam they were dead when I found them," Dean said.

"And?" John's breath fogged the air.

"And they weren't," Dean said. "They were sitting in the living room with the mailman, eating cookies and drinking coffee."

Dean swallowed hard. John needed to know and Dean was going to tell him. He shivered but he didn't know if it was from the cold or the memory. It had been cold that day, too. January in Oklahoma tended towards the lower end of the thermometer. He remembered he had gotten off the school bus and walked down the long driveway. The aroma of cookies tickled his nose the moment he entered the warm farmhouse.

Inside, Frank and Beatrice were chatting with the mailman – Frank in his big chair, Beatrice beside the guy on the paisley couch with a tray of chocolate chips. Before Dean could greet his foster parents, the mailman turned to him and said, "Hiya Dean, where's little Sammy?"

The question fell strange on Dean's ears. He shrugged, surprised the man knew his and his brother's names. But he figured Beatrice told him about them. She was gabby.

"So, where's Sammy, Dean?" he asked again.

Dean's skin prickled. The hairs stood up on end. Sammy was none of the postal services business. Dean wanted to tell him to mind his own beeswax. Instead he forced a friendly smile. Sammy liked it here and Dean was trying to be good

But he couldn't completely ignore his instincts. If almost ten years of foster care had taught him one thing, it was trust your instincts. Problem was he was also trying to behave. And be polite. And act like someone Frank and Beatrice would want to keep.

Dean shuffled on his feet and settled for saying, "Do you have a letter for him or something?"

The mailman's eyes flashed black. "Don't be a little prick, Dean."

"Excuse me, here." Frank jumped to Dean's defense. "Hey now, Floyd, no need to get ugly with my—"

The mailman, Floyd, flipped his hand. Frank flew across the room, crashed into the wall.

Beatrice reached for him. "No!" Her knees creaked as she struggled to stand. Floyd waved in her direction. She was forced back into the couch, pinned like a bug to a tray.

"Now zip it, you two," he grinned and turned back to Dean. "I've got business with your boy, here." He stood up, grabbed his postal bag, and rummaged inside of it. "Let's see…ah-ha!" He pulled out a large hunting knife, the kind with a long sharp blade that was used to skin deer and large game. "I want to talk to your brother, Dean."

The blade glinted in the cold sunrays that shined from the living room window. Frank and Beatrice looked at him with horrified expressions. They didn't speak. After a moment, Dean realized they couldn't. Floyd was keeping them silent.

He pointed his knife at Dean. "So, where's Sammy."

Sammy was at a friend's house working on his science fair project. The kid would be home soon but he sure as hell wasn't telling the freak mailman that. He swallowed hard. "He's, um, he's not here." He smirked. "He likes to summer in Florida. Get out of the cold. Away from the wheat fields. Check back in Oklahoma come spring."

"Funny." The man stepped closer, tapped his knife against Dean's shoulder. "Of course, it's not really about Sammy. It's not about screwing up anybody's master plan. Not for me." He moved flash fast, grabbed Dean and flung him towards the couch. "It's about mischief. My sister, she doesn't understand that. She thinks it's about the prize, but I know it's about the game. That's why I'm gonna win. That's why I'm the favorite son."

Dean struggled up. A bruising hand grabbed his arm, tossed him on the couch beside Beatrice.

"Now, you stay there, Dean," he said and smiled. "We're all gonna play a game while we wait for Sammy."

Dean tried to move, but he was stuck to the couch. He tried to speak, but he couldn't move his mouth, he couldn't make noise. He was left to dart his gaze from the crazed mailman, to Frank's furious eyes, to Beatrice's frightened ones.

"This game," Floyd started, "is called one lives, one dies. It's one of my favorites. Let's start with Frank." He walked behind the couch and stood over Dean and Beatrice. "I have your lovely wife, of what is it, fifty-four years, and your troubled foster kid of a few months. When I leave, I'll let one of them live, unharmed, for the time being. But the other, well, not so much and you get to choose."

The hold on Frank's voice must've been lifted. "You're not Floyd," he said. "Don't you touch either of 'em."

"Tsk, tsk," Floyd, or not Floyd, or whoever he was said, "If you don't choose, I'll kill them both."

The man slid the cool metal blade across Dean's neck. His pulse raced. He felt the color drain from his face. Floyd didn't press it into his skin.

"Now, come on, don't be like that." Floyd pulled the blade away. He stomped around to the wall and leaned down to speak to Frank. "I'm a man of my word. So pick. One lives, one dies. Which one do you wanna save?"

"For how long?" Frank said.

"What?" the mailman said.

"How long do you leave the one that lives alone?"

Floyd smiled, kicked Frank in the gut. Dean wanted to shout at the man to leave Frank alone, to go to fucking hell, but his mouth was glued shut. Beside him, tears flowed down Beatrice's face.

"Old, but still sharp. I like you, Frank." He pursed his lips. "One week. After that, everyone is fair game again." He turned and strode towards the couch. His boots clomped on the floor. Dean's breath's got rapid. He prayed Sammy would geek out and stay gone. Even a damned man got a last request and that was Dean's. He hoped someone, somewhere was listening.

"Times up," he said sounding chipper, "choose one to live or they both die." He raised the knife.

Frank didn't hesitate. "Dean," he croaked out, "I'll be right behind you Bea. I choose the boy. The boy lives."

Floyd's eyes lit up. He paused and turned to Frank. "Interesting choice. Giving up your wife for this foster rat." He stalked towards Beatrice. "Now for the fun."

Dean still couldn't move. He still couldn't speak. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to stop this.

"Wait!" Frank shouted. "I want to play again. You like to play, right? I want to play again. It's more fun that way. That's what you said."

Floyd sighed. He rested the blade against Beatrice's neck. He twisted his head around to sneer at Frank. "You want to trade yourself for the little woman? Too late, you already chose her."

"No. No," Frank rushed out. "For Sammy. I want to play for Sammy. One lives, one dies with Sammy and me. You leave the one that lives alone for a week."

"Sammy's the prize, weren't you paying attention."

"But it's really about the game, that's what you said," Frank said.

Floyd cocked his head. "No offense, you can't be a chooser and a player. It's not as fun that way. And you're just stupid enough to choose little Sammy over yourself."

"Let Dean choose. He already gets to live. Let him choose. That's fun right?"

Floyd's dark eyes focused on Dean. "Hmm." He smiled. "You're right. That is fun. And it is really all about the game." He turned to Dean. "Okay Dean. One lives, one dies. Who's it gonna be? Frank or Sammy?"

Dean felt choked, like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"Choose one or they both meet the business end of my blade," Floyd said. "Three, two—"

"Sam," Dean yelled out.

Floyd rolled his eyes. "No surprise there," he said and tapped the knife against Dean's shoulder. "But I don't mind waitin' a week to carve up little Sammy. Me and you can have some quality time then, too."

His eyes shifted to Beatrice. He loomed over her. Dean was frozen again. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. Neither could Frank. Neither could Beatrice.

"I'll let you fight back," the man said to her, "but it won't do much good."

Beatrice's body relaxed into her control. She set her chin. She didn't have much of a chance against the man leaning over her. She reached over, squeezed Dean's hand. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything...

Dean leaned back against the car, brought his mind back to the present, back to the cold and dark and John. He turned away from John and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "So I choose Sam. And Frank and Beatrice they—" His voice cracked. He inhaled the icy air. "And I guess you know what happened to them. Four days later, Sammy and I snuck away from the group home they stuck us in, and we ran for it."

"He knew you'd pick your brother Dean," John said. He stepped closer to Dean.

"I know that."

"Safe bet Flo – I mean the demon that possessed Flo – was his sister. I'll call Bobby see if he can find out the name of the thing."

Dean had larger concerns. "Don't tell Sam any of this. He doesn't need to know."

"I agree," John said. "You did good, Dean, getting him away. And I won't tell him the details. He shouldn't have to deal with that. Neither should you. If I could erase them from your head, I would."

Dean didn't answer. Now that he'd made himself think about that day, visions of it kept flashing into his head. He didn't want to talk to John. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to pound his fist into the sidewalk and not stop until it was bloody and broken and hurting and the memory of Beatrice screaming was forced from his head.

The front porch light flicked on. Mary came out, wrapped in a robe. She squinted in his and John's direction. "What are you doing out here?" she said and walked toward them. "It's freezing."

She was right. It was cold. And it was getting colder. John's breath fogged the air beside him. He squeezed Dean's shoulder. Dean hadn't notice him move so close. Mary's face opened in concern as she got nearer. She increased her pace, clearly alarmed.

"What's wrong?" she said. "What's wrong?"

Dean wasn't going to have another breakdown. He wasn't. Four were enough. He caught her eyes.

"We were—" He stopped and cleared his throat. "We were just talking."

She glanced at John, something unidentifiable on her face. "It's cold." She approached him like she thought he was going to bolt down the street and disappear. "We can talk inside."

"We're finished." Dean said in a quiet voice. "We're finished talking."

John squeezed his shoulder. "So let's go inside, son."

Mary was stealthy. Her arms were around Dean before he had time to notice or wrench away. "I can make some soup," she said and pulled him towards the house.

Dean let her lead him towards the kitchen. John walked beside him and blocked the icy breeze.

"We also have pie," John offered.

Dean didn't answer. Mary didn't seem to want to let him go. She led him to the house in some sort of awkward embrace. After a few feet, Dean gave up and laid his head against her shoulder. He wasn't hungry. He didn't want to talk now and risk another freakin' breakdown. He didn't want to think about blood splattered across Frank and Beatrice's paisley couch. He just wanted silence. Not for long. Just until those memories were squashed back down where they could sit stagnant and still.

"Dean?" John asked softly. He and Mary glanced at each other.

She hugged him tighter. "Let's get you warmed up, okay?"

Dean let them get him inside and wrapped in a blanket.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

After spilling his story by the car, Dean hadn't muttered a word for two hours. He'd smiled and frowned, shook his head yes and no, but he would not talk. He and Mary finally sent him to bed, told him he needed to rest, it'd been a hard day – told each other the same thing – and had no idea what to do.

John would do anything for his boys. Anything. Mary was the same way. But neither of them knew how to protect them from what they'd already lived through, how to help them recover. They weren't exactly role models of emotional health. John's best coping mechanism involved killing as many evil things as possible. Dean was too green for that strategy.

He looked out the window. The air close to the glass was cool. It was getting light and the lawn was sprinkled with snow. He turned back and watched his wife. She rummaged in the refrigerator, in the pantry, pulled out eggs, bacon, and an entire ham – most of what John had bought at the store the day before.

"If he doesn't want to talk when he gets up, don't push him," Mary said and turned on the oven. She pulled out a pan. "And don't push Sam either."

"What are you doing?" he said.

"One thing I know about Dean is he likes food. That hasn't changed." She frowned and turned back to the fridge and pulled out the sausage. "The more meat products the better," she said, "and Sam likes fruit with his eggs. He told me that yesterday. I can't forget the fruit."

Mary's coping methods involved obsessing over cleaning the weapons and cataloging information. Judging by the amount of food cradled in her arms, it looked like he could add cooking to that list.

"You need some help?" he said.

She handed him a bowl, whisk, and the carton of eggs. "Thanks," she said and turned back to the stove. He saw her shoulders tense. "When are you going to call Bobby and get his take on this demon?"

"After breakfast." John cracked the eggs. He fished out the shells that had fallen into the yolks. "Any earlier than that and the man will start screening my calls again."

"You can always get one of the boys to make the call. He'll answer for Sam. Or Dean." Mary paused. "That is if Dean will talk." She stopped and took in a deep breath. "What if keeps not talking, John? What are we going to do?"

"Worse comes to worst, we can learn sign language." John whisked the eggs. "We'll figure it out as we go."

It turned out to be a non issue. Dean came into the kitchen loud, overly happy, and pretended like he hadn't completely shut down the night before. There was nothing pretend about his appreciation of the food, though.

He sat at the small kitchen table beside John and looked awestruck.

"Bacon?" Mary offered.

"I never refuse bacon," he said and grinned. "Food of the gods, I swear." He yelled, "Sammy! Get in here. There's more food than I've ever seen."

Sam trudged into the kitchen, yawned, and sat across from Dean. "G'morning."

Dean plastered on a plastic smile. "It's an awesome morning," he said and piled an egg, sausage, bacon plate for Sam, "Eat up."

Sam took the plate, added a banana to the pile, and immediately ate the eggs. "S'good."

"It's better than good," Dean said and went into a five minute monologue about his love of all things meat.

Sam chomped on his bacon and frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I told you," Dean said with his mouth full of egg, "I'm great."

"You're acting weirder than normal." Sam turned suspicious eyes on John and Mary. That answered one of John's questions. Dean's happy routine wasn't the norm. Seemed Dean had his own coping mechanisms.

Sam grabbed a piece of toast. His face fell thoughtful before he aimed a mischievous, dimpled grin at his brother. "It's a lot of food." He turned to Mary. "He'll never leave if you feed him like this."

"Oh. Well." Mary smiled. "Then I'll have to feed him like this every day."

Dean looked embarrassed at that. But he latched on to Sam's jibe. "You wanna keep Sammy happy you'll need to get some organic tofu and grass froufrou salad."

"I got some fruit." Mary held out a plate of apples and bananas. "What else would make you feel more comfortable, Sam?"

"I'll stay if he stays." Then he added, "And I want a kitten."

"A kitten?" Dean snorted and seemed genuinely amused. "When did you turn into a nine year old princess? I thought I ran away with my little brother?"

"That's my demand." Sam turned back to Mary. "I want one with white feet so I can name it Mr. Boots."

Dean gaped. Chewed bacon pieces fell out of his mouth and he stared at Sam. "You're killing me here, man. You're giving Winchester men a bad name." He motioned to John. "Tell him he can't name a Winchester cat Mr. Boots."

It seemed Sam understood Dean's coping mechanisms pretty well. John frowned. But Sam didn't know why Dean was acting funny. How often had Sam seen this faux sunny side of his brother? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But he might have to take a hit to his pride and ask Sam for advice when dealing with Dean. He might have to try the reverse, too, and get Dean's take on Sam. Research, and interviewing witnesses, was a necessity in his life.

"Uh…John?" Dean's grin faltered. John saw some of the strain of last night show through, some of the happy exterior break away.

John scrunched up his face. What the hell did he know about cats? "I'd name it Cat."

Sam turned his huge grin on John. "So I really can get a kitten?" He glanced at Mary. "Really?"

Dean looked at her too. "Are you actually gonna let the geek get a pet?"

John wasn't sure when they determined she was in charge but this one was her decision. He looked at her too and waited to see what she would say. Mary didn't like cats. She'd had some sort of run-in with a litter of rabid, demonic ghost kittens when she was teenager. Every time she heard a meow the woman frowned, shook her head, and muttered, "It's just a normal cat," over and over to herself.

She stood up and started stacking dishes in the sink. "If you want a cat, Sam," she said very carefully, "I guess we can get you a cat."

"With white feet."

"With white feet," she said. John was impressed. If he didn't know her so well, he'd have thought she was much more comfortable with the idea than he knew that she was.

"And I can name him Mr. Boots," Sam said.

"Mr. Boots?" Dean stood up to help with the dishes. "C'mon. Don't let him do that to the cat. It's animal cruelty. The cat deserves an awesome name like Stryker or Zeppelin. You let Sam call him Mr. Boots all the other cats will make fun of him." He turned pleading eyes on John. "John, you gotta agree with me on this one."

John could be diplomatic when he tried. "Call him 'Mr. Zeppelin Boots'. "

Sam's face fell thoughtful. "I like it," he said.

Yeah, Sam was a good kid. He deserved a damn cat.

After breakfast, Mary sent John out on the pretense of buying more groceries. They had decided the less the boys knew about their hunt for the other demon, the better. He pulled on his coat and went to outside. The sun was blinding and the sky was a deep blue.

Sam waited beside the car.

"I wanna go with you," he said.

John wanted privacy. "Sam, your brother could really use the company today. I won't be long."

"Mom's keeping him company," he said. "She's making him more food."

_Mom._ John smiled. He liked hearing him call her that. "Wait. More food?" he said.

"He wanted soup," Sam said. "And he always wants more food."

"I think you should stay Sam." John said but he felt his fortitude crumbling.

Sam's eyes became sharp but then became big and innocent.

John was a con man. He recognized his son's expression from the mirror. It was the one he'd had to train away before becoming truly talented at deceit. Whatever Sam was about to say was going to be a con job. John crossed his arms. This kid didn't know who he was trying to fool here.

"Please, Dad?" Sam said.

_Dad. _Damn this kid was good at getting him off his game. John glanced down at him. Sam glanced at the front seat like he was planning how best to sit.

John was being played. John knew it. Sam knew it. And lest John forget, he'd also managed to get himself promised a kitten fifteen minutes ago.

Sam looked down. His youngest was either the sweetest kid on the planet or the sneakiest.

"I'm sorry, Sam. You need to stay, son."

Sam said, "I wanna go with you, Dad."

He took Sam with him. They pulled into the Food Town parking lot.

"Wait for me," he told Sam, "and keep the door locked."

He went to the phone booth in front of the store and dialed Bobby. The man answered on the second ring.

"_You find anything out?_" Bobby said.

John told him what Dean had told him.

"_He alright?_" Bobby said.

John rubbed his beard. "Better than you'd expect."

"_Yeah. Like I said, they're strong kids, both of 'em_." Bobby sighed over the receiver. "_This demon, wearing the mailman, Dean said he said he liked to play games?_"

"Yep. The demon told him that more than once." John glanced at the car and made sure Sam remained in the passenger seat.

"_And the demon in Flo, he said it was his sister, huh?_"

"That's right."

"_I think I know who the sonuvabitch is but I need to check a few things. How can I get in touch with you?_"

John hesitated. "I don't want to upset the boys. I'll call you tonight at six sharp."

He climbed back in the car and started the engine.

"You didn't go in the store," Sam said. He glanced towards the phone booth. "You went to the phone booth."

"I needed to make a call," John said.

"Why didn't you call from the house? They set up the phone yesterday."

"I needed privacy." John pulled back onto the road.

"Why?"

"I just did," John said.

Sam frowned and looked away. "Who'd you call?"

John almost told Sam it was none of his business. But he was trying to be less of an ass in front of the boys. He and Mary had a long talk about that. "Bobby," he said.

"Did you talk about the monsters?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Sam."

"The nurse, the demon in her, said she was after me," Sam said, "so it is something I need to worry about."

"We took care of that one already," John said.

Sam fiddled with the ashtray, flipped it open and closed. Then he said, "Is there another one?"

John wanted to say no. He wanted to tell him it was safe. What came out was, "There's always another one, Sam."

Sam nodded and said, "Then it's a good thing you save people from them." He sighed, crossed his arms and added, "I don't see why you can't call Bobby from the house."

John had to admit, Sam had a point. At six, he called Bobby back from the house.

Bobby said, "_It's name's Gamdon – the demon of the deal. His sister's Malra – the demon of the call. She's the one we sent back to the pit, though. She shouldn't be topside for awhile._"

"You able to track the other one?"

"_It's in Atlantic City_."

John cursed. Atlantic City was an hour east. Not enough distance for his comfort. "What's it doing in Atlantic City? I don't want it near the boys," John said, "The bastard's done enough damage to them already."

"_It likes to play games, John. Atlantic City's a perfect place for it_. _Full of people and poker._"

"We need to put this thing down. You comin' with Mary and me on this one?"

"_I ain't sittin' it out, not after doing all the damn legwork,_" Bobby said. "_I'll meet you in Philly. We'll go from there. Anything else?_"

"No," John said. Then he sighed and said, "Sam said to tell you hi."

Bobby chuckled over the line. _"Tell him I'll see him and his brother soon. I'd like to hear how they're holdin' up."_ There was judgment in that sentence – questions about John, about Mary, about their abilities to care for their sons.

"They're fine," John said and hung up. He stomped towards the door to the living room and slammed it open. It hit something heavy and loud and bounced back.

"Ow!" The something said.

John opened the door more slowly. Dean was crouched in front of it, rubbing his ear.

John closed his eyes and forced his temper down. "What're you doing, Dean?" he said. This was the reason he should've called from the Food Town.

"I lost a contact?" Dean's smirk faded. He shrugged and said, "Sammy and I want to know about the demon. He said you were calling Bobby. I was trying to get some info."

"And where is Sam?" John glanced suspiciously at the cabinets under the sink.

"Funny story. He's, um, well, he's distracting Mary. She wanted us away from the kitchen."

John had had enough. He cut to the chase. "How much did you hear?" he said.

"I heard enough." Dean stood up, brushed off his jeans, and said, "You and Mary can't go to Atlantic City and leave us here. You've gotta take us with you."

No way was John doing that. "The demon, the one that killed your foster parents, is there."

Dean paled at that.

John said, "We're taking it down and you boys are lying low."

"Yeah. Okay." Dean rocked on his feet. "And what if it comes here after Sammy and me while you all are off playing the slots?" His tone was less respectful than John would normally put up with, but, well, as long as the kid was talking, John could deal with it.

"It can't find you, Dean."

"You sure about that?"

John didn't answer. Certainty was a fickle bitch. He said, "You're not coming with us. That's final."

"You leave us. We'll just hitch a ride." His lip curled down. "Of course, whether we head out to Atlantic City or places south or west, you'll never know. We'll go. We won't come back."

John rubbed his forehead. It was an empty threat. Dean didn't want to leave them. They hadn't had the kid back for long, but John knew Dean wouldn't ditch them and take Sam back on the streets. The only problem was that John had a long, troubled history with certainty, and, hell, what if something did come for them while he, Mary, and Bobby were off hunting this Gamdon bastard.

"If, if you come with us, you and Sam better not take a step out of place. You understand, Dean?"

Dean leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. "What about school?"

"You can start school when we get back."

Dean nodded happily. "Hey, we can start school next year for all I care, but I figure the twerp will want to know."

"Don't look so happy. You're going to spend the next twenty-four hours preparing for the mission."

"The mission? That kinda like the trip?"

"That's 'kinda like the hunt', kid," John said.

"I thought you wanted Sammy and me 'lying low'."

"That doesn't mean I want you unprepared."

"Cool, man. I'm down with that." Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So…" He looked up and grinned, "When do we get to get the cat? I mean, you know how it is, Sammy's gonna want to know."

That's right. Mary promised Sam a cat. "Mr. Boots?" John said. "I don't know. After we get back."

Dean looked stricken. Shit. John couldn't take that look. What had he said wrong now?

"We'll get Mr. Boots, Dean, but it'll have to wait until after the hunt."

"Dude." Dean's expression turned to horror. "Dude, you just called Zeppelin, Mr. Boots. Twice. You're gonna give the poor cat a complex doing that."

Oh for fuck's sake. Was that what was bothering the kid now? They hadn't even adopted this hypothetical white pawed beast yet. John took in a deep breath. "Mr. Zeppelin Boots, then."

"I guess that's better."

"Good," John said, "I'm glad we've got that settled. Now get a glass of water. You're gonna learn to bless it."


	17. Chapter 17

Atlantic City was on the ocean. Neon lights and large tacky replicas of Roman columns reflected in the water off the boardwalk. In other words, it was awesome. Dean told the other's as much.

"It's is a place and a job, Dean," John said.

"A freakin' awesome place," Dean said.

Sam looked around the lobby like he was thinking about it. "I like the lights," he said.

John, Mary, and Bobby weren't listening. They stationed themselves around Dean and his brother at corners of an invisible triangle like they thought something was going to snatch them from the spot. Dean sighed. He and Sam had been on their own for ten years. They didn't need bodyguards.

"Can I go into the casino?" Dean said.

"No," John said. "You and Sam are waiting in the room."

They moved to the elevators at the edge of the lobby where the shining floor tiles gave way to the worn carpet of the casino. The place was filled with blinking lights and the sounds of falling coins. Years of cigarette smoke left the area with a dense burnt smell. Dean stretched towards it, grinned as he took in the tight outfits of the waitresses and the shiny machines. He tracked one particularly busty woman as she delivered a round of drinks to the craps table. He froze, his heart racing, his muscles tight. He wanted to run, but couldn't. He wanted to look away.

John's voice was a deep rumble in the background. "No answering the door. No moving the salt lines. No answering the phone. If one of us needs to contact you, we'll give you the signal. No—" He paused his litany. "Dean, are you listening?"

Not thirty feet away, a mailman leaned against the craps table. His uniform was pressed and clean. The tag on the front corner pocket had Floyd spelled out in blue letters. He grinned when he saw Dean. Then his eyes shifted to where Sam stood.

Dean found his voice. "He's here."

"That's right, sweetie, " Mary said. "And we'll find him."

"No, no, no." He stepped in front of Sam, tried to block him from the demon's view. "He's at the craps table. The mailman."

John, Mary, and Bobby turned.

"Sonuva—" Bobby said.

Mary and Bobby crowded Sam into a protective sandwich. John pulled Dean under his arm.

The demon pushed off the table and walked towards them. His grin grew. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise," he said, eyes flashing black. "I got word I might find Dean and little Sammy here but I wasn't expecting the entire family. How've you been, Dean? I'm surprised it took me this long to track you down."

"Don't talk to my son," John growled out.

"I'm paying the kid a compliment. You could learn from that. And, thank you, John."

"For what?"

"For bringing me the boys. I was beginning to think they'd dropped off the planet."

"And we want to thank you," Mary said.

Floyd cocked his head. "You do?"

"For making it so easy to find you and send you back to hell."

"Touché," Floyd said. "Besides, I like hell."

"No one likes hell," Bobby said.

"I like games. Hell is one long dark eternal game. Not as much fun as it is topside since the outcome's more certain, but fun nonetheless."

Dean was shaking. And he wasn't breathing. That wasn't right. He needed to breathe. John's arm tightened around his shoulders and Dean gulped in a deep breath, acutely aware at how happy he was that the John, Mary, and Bobby were there.

"We know who you are, Gamdon," John said.

The demon raised his brows and smiled. "That's me, the demon of the deal. So did you come to play, then?"

"This isn't a game," John said.

"Everything's a game." The demon shrugged. "That's the problem with other demons. All they care about is the end result, damning souls, causing trouble. My sister, all she cares about is winning. But the game's the fun of it." He leaned towards Dean, smacked his lips, and said, "You send me to hell, I'll just crawl out and rip those boys apart. You can't protect them all of the time." He cocked his head, took in John and Mary and Bobby in turn. "But, maybe, just maybe, I'll let them be – if you're willing to take a gamble."

"Why the hell would-" John said.

"You and your pretty wife play a game with me, I'll stop chasing your boys and my siblings will leave them alone. Tell you the truth, they're almost not worth the fun of it. Too many other players involved."

"Like who?" Mary said.

"Oh. Trust me, you don't want to know." Gamdon's grin widened. "Here's the deal, you and Mary's lives versus mine. I won't even make you risk your souls. But the boys gotta watch."

"No." John said.

Several people surrounded them. Their eyes flashed black.

"You're not really getting the big picture here," Gamdon said. "You play or I take the kids and strip the flesh from their bones before I let them die. Thing is," he said, "that's almost as fun as playing."

"John, Mary, this isn't a good—" Bobby began.

"What are the rules?" Mary said.

Dean couldn't believe they were considering it. This Gamdon had killed Frank and Beatrice. He'd killed them. "No," he said. "You can't. You can't do that."

John pulled Dean closer and shushed him. "Let us handle this, Dean."

Gamdon caught Dean's eyes but spoke to Mary. "The kids watch. Your gruff old friend can guard them, if you want. And it's simple. We play truth or dare. You lie or fail to do the dare, I get to kill you. I lie or fail a dare, you can kill me if you want." He held out a room card. "Room 1093. Think about it. I'll be there until ten. You fail to show, your boys are fair game again." He was gone.

The black eyed people surrounding them dropped to the floor. They stumbled back to their feet, confused, frightened, no longer possessed. Once the crowd had wandered away, Bobby glowered at John and Mary.

"You idjits can't seriously be considering this?" Bobby said.

"Don't do it," Sam said. The kid always had been bright. Dean nodded in agreement.

"We're not letting this demon hurt you." Mary rubbed Sam's shoulder. "Gamdon is bound by the game, right? We agree and he and his sister stop chasing the kids. And none of his other siblings can come after them either."

"That's what the lore says, but—" Bobby said.

"So, it's simple," she said. "We play and we win."

Bobby cursed. "You can't win against Gamdon. Even if you win, you lose. It ain't that simple," he said. "He could dare you to torture, to kill. It's not a good idea."

John rubbed his chin. "Mary and I'll choose truth. Then the only thing getting hurt is feelings." He chuckled. "And I'm one cold-blooded sonuvagun."

"I'm not afraid of a game, I'm not afraid of a demon." Mary said. "But we need a plan."

Room 1093 was a suite on the tenth floor. The opulent room had picture windows that viewed the moonlit waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Gamdon sat at a round mahogany table with a crystal ball poised at its center. Inside the ball, clouds swirled like a storm was caught within it.

"Glad to see you're sensible," the demon said. He was the only one in the room.

"You're pretty sure of yourself," Mary said and glanced around. "What's to stop us from exorcising you?"

"I'm not some low-class flunkie, don't think it would be easy." He flipped his wrist and two of chairs surrounding the table jerked out. "Besides, being sent back to hell wouldn't stop me from hunting your kids, it'd only delay me."

"We play and you leave them alone. All of you?" she said.

"That's right," he said.

"Forever?"

"As long as you don't come after me, sure. Why not? Now sit."

"You don't have to do this," Dean said. "He won't be able to find us. Remember the ants?"

The demon flipped his hand again. "Ants, huh? Strange one, your oldest," he said.

Dean tried to reply. He grabbed at his throat and couldn't talk. His legs were locked in place and he couldn't move, couldn't sit. Beside him, Sam opened and closed his mouth. Bobby stood between them silent and obviously unhappy.

"The peanut gallery needs to shut it," Gamdon said. He motioned to the orb. "It glows blue for every truthful answer, every dare completed. It glows burgundy for a lie, refusal or failure."

John and Mary sat at the table. John's voice was harsh and cold when he spoke. "Fine. Let's play," he said. "Truth or Dare, you sonuvabitch."

"Dare."

"Those other demons we saw downstairs, send them back to hell," John said.

"I could care less about them," Gamdon said. He closed his eyes, the lights flickered, and the furniture shook. "Done. Now it's my turn. Truth or Dare."

"Truth," Mary said.

"You really think that's the safer option?" Gamdon said. He nodded to where Dean, Sam, and Bobby stood. "There's another game I like to play. Dean's real familiar with it. It called 'one lives, one dies'. If we were playing that game, if you had no option but to choose one or lose them both, how would you choose, Sam or Dean?"

"I'd find a way to save them both," Mary said.

The orb swirled, a pink tinge to the clouds within it.

"Tsk, tsk," the demon said. "Listen to the question. You can only save one. I know you can imagine that scenario. Which one would you save?"

Mary hesitated, but only for second. "Sam. He's younger."

"I didn't ask for a reason."

"You didn't preclude one," she said.

"I guess I didn't." The demon said slyly. "You have to answer the question, too, John. You two want to play like a team, you aren't allowed to hedge your bets. You both have to answer."

John didn't hesitate at all. "Sam," he said. The orb swirled a brilliant blue before fading back to cloudy.

Dean wasn't surprised. So what if they'd both pick Sam. It's who he'd pick. And the important thing was they told the truth. If it made his chest tighten and his breath catch, well who the hell cared.

"Your turn," Mary said. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

She pulled her bottle of holy water from her purse. "Drink it," she said. "All of it."

Gamdon grimaced, put the bottle to his lips, and drank. He screamed and his body vibrated. Steam shot from his mouth, his nose. He finished it and was quiet for a moment. The orb swirled blue. "That smarted." He grinned. "You know what's fun about this for me? I can keep playing for hours and there's nothing you can dare me to do that I won't do. So, truth or dare?"

"Truth," John said.

The demon shook his head. "Really? That's your game plan, here?" He looked at Dean and Sam again. "Alright," he said. "When you first found Dean and didn't know he was yours, what was your opinion of your son?"

"I thought he was a tough little shit who swiped my wallet," John said.

Gamdon didn't seem to like that answer. "And what about you?"

Mary smiled. "I thought he was a cute kid who needed to go home. And he did. He went with us." The orb swirled blue.

The demon looked like he might throw up. "Spare me," he said.

"Truth or Dare?" she said.

"Dare," he said.

"Let Bobby and the kids free for the rest of the game," she said.

"That's not the type of dare that gets you anywhere close to winning," Gamdon said.

"I don't like them trapped like that. Are you refusing?" she said.

The demon shrugged. "Not at all."

He flipped his hand and the vice on Dean's larynx unclamped, his legs relaxed and came under his control. Bobby moved from between them and stalked around the room. The demon's eyes followed him before turning to Mary.

"Truth or Dare?" Gamdon said.

"Truth," Mary said.

"I guessed as much." The demon leaned back in his chair. "Well, we've already established which kid you'd save and why. But which of them do you love the most. Which one's your favorite?"

"I love them both," Mary said.

"That's not what I asked."

She glanced at them, brow furrowed, eyes sharp. "I love them both the same."

"You really want to go with that?" Gamdon said.

Dean couldn't believe her, couldn't believe that she wouldn't pick. Dean would get over it, he would. It wasn't like he didn't know that they preferred Sammy. Hell. Dean preferred Sammy. And the demon would kill her, kill John, if she lied. "Mary!" No. Wait. Dean shouldn't call her that. She listened more when he called her mom. "I mean, Mom. Mom you've gotta tell them the truth. You've gotta," he said.

"It is the truth, Dean," she said.

"We'll see soon enough," the demon said. "What about you John. I know you have a favorite. I know you do."

John shook his head. "Yeah. Maybe." He chuckled. "Is this what you think is going to tear us apart? Asking us these ridiculous questions? Getting us to play favorites. I already have a bad habit of doing that."

"You can choose dare."

"I'm smarter than that," John said.

"Then, what's your answer?"

"Sam's keeping his mouth shut, so, right now, Sam's my favorite." The orb shined blue.

"Face it, he's always your favorite," the demon said.

"I didn't say that," John said.

Bobby kept circling. Gamdon glanced at him. "If you get any ideas about interfering of behalf of these two pathetic excuses for hunters, don't. The game is forfeit and I win if you do."

"I have no plans to interfere. I'm just watching, making sure you don't cheat."

"I'm letting you watch 'cause it's more fun with an audience. But don't begin to believe this game concern's you, Bobby Singer."

"I know it doesn't concern me, I'm too damn smart to be playing games with the likes of you,"

"You're missing out on all the fun," the demon said, "but I still have you and Mary, huh, John?" He motioned to Sam. "And now we know Daddy loves Sam the most."

"I said he was my favorite," John said, "today." Dean wasn't sure what difference that made. He wanted them to like Sam. And so what if they liked Sam more. Everyone else did. Dean could care less. He fidgeted on his feet. It didn't bother him at all.

"It doesn't bother me," he said.

Beside him, Sam bristled. "Well, I'd save you, Dean," he said. "And I love you the most. I barely know them so I only love them a little bit."

John glanced at Sam. "That right there, Sam. That's why you're my favorite, today," he said. He turned back to the demon. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"You sure you don't want to try truth?" Mary said.

"And let the two of you mine me for information, no thanks. Besides, I enjoy a good dare."

"Good," said John. "Your father Ashan, he's in hell, right?"

"You seem to think you know a lot about me, but I don't hear a dare in that. Quit stalling."

"We're not." Mary leaned forward. "We want you to go to hell, spit in his face, and lay claim to his throne."

"No." Gamdon laughed. "I can't do that."

"Can't or won't," John said.

The demon gazed at them for a long moment. "Tricky, tricky," he said. "Would I rather lose to you or lose to him. Hmm. So, the answer is I won't." The orb glowed red.

"Now you see why we choose truth," John said. "The truth hurts, but it always can come out. We win."

"Right. Well done." The demon smiled and spread out his arms. "And now you get to kill me."

"Been looking forward to it," John said.

"But the boys get to watch," he said.

"John, Mary, can we have a little talk," Bobby said.

John got up and skulked over. Mary followed.

"What?" John said.

"There's an innocent human being in there. You won't be killin' a demon, you'll be killin' the host."

"He's right about that," Mary said.

"We can't just let Gamdon go, he'll continue to terrorize innocents," John said.

Dean leaned forward, his body stiff from standing. He looked at the demon again, took in his pressed mailman's uniform, reread his nametag. Floyd was like Flo. He was a victim, trapped inside his body, this demon wearing him like a disposable suit. Mary and John knew that. They knew that without Bobby reminding them.

"Don't kill him, John," Dean said. "Don't do it. Floyd hasn't done anything to us."

"Dean," Mary said. "We destroy the body, the demon may not be able to find another host. Not everyone can be possessed. The demon has to worm inside through cracks and weaknesses. It's not simple."

But it was. And now Dean was going to get to see who his parents really were – if they were the type of people that hurt others. "You can exorcise him."

"Nope. Nope, nope, nope." Gamdon stood up and stretched. "They can't. The stakes were they could kill me, kill the body. They come after me with an exorcism, the arrangements over and you and your brother are fair game."

Dean stepped back from the demon and caught John's eyes. "Do it anyway," he said. "We're not afraid of him."

Which, of course, was bullshit. Dean could barely look at 'Floyd' without hyperventilating. The only thing keeping his nerves in check was his little brother standing next to him. He had to be strong for Sam. And Sam, for his part, looked like he was going to throw up. Sam sometimes threw up when he was terrified.

John and Mary were silent for a moment. Sam swallowed loudly like he was forcing his dinner back down, crossed his arms, and waited. Dean just stood there. He didn't know what he'd do if they killed the man. He wanted them to be good, wanted them to be safe, wanted them to be the type of people he and Sam could live with.

"It bothers you that much?" John sighed. He turned slowly and gazed at Gamdon. "Alright. Mary and I choose to let you live and walk away. And you and yours leave us and the boys alone."

"A deal's a deal, John. And I play by the rules. But I'm not a good loser." The demons face twisted in fury. "Now get the hell out of my room."

"Boys, Mary, let's go," John said. He pushed Dean and Sam towards the door. Mary and John shared a look Dean couldn't interpret.

She smiled and said, "Right, yes, of course."

In the hall, Dean knees went weak. If he ever saw a demon again, it would be too soon. To his left, Sam was wide-eyed and apparently shocked they were outside or that they were alive or maybe that their parents weren't cold-blooded murderers. As the hotel door closed behind them, he noticed Bobby was still inside.

"I said get out," Gamdon said.

Bobby's gruff voice filtered through the gap of the closing door. "Now, now," he said. "I sure as hell didn't make any deal with you. And I think it's time someone sent you back home to daddy."

The door clicked shut. John and Mary hurried them down the hall.

Dean pulled back. "What about Bobby?"

John chuckled. "Don't worry. He didn't walk into that room unprepared. And he didn't waste his time while your mother and I were distracting the demon. Bobby's got Gamdon's number, he knows what he's doing. I'd bet money on the man."

Dean wasn't so sure. But Bobby met them for the breakfast buffet the next morning looking well slept and relaxed.


	18. Chapter 18

Mr. Zeppelin Boots was a big red tabby cat with his tail and one paw tipped white. He curled on Sam's lap in the boys' bedroom.

"I wish all his feet were white," Sam said.

Sam was the youngest and knew how to scratch his neck just right so Mr. Zeppelin Boots forgave him for the comment and snuggled. But there was nothing wrong with any of his majestic feet, thank you.

"Nah. He's alright." Dean said. "For a cat." He reached over and pulled at Mr. Zeppelin Boot's white paw. "Ow!" Dean said. "The damn cat scratched me."

"He doesn't like having his paws pulled, Dean." Mr. Zeppelin Boots purred heartily to let Sam know he was right and he approved of Sam's censure of his brother. Sometimes, Dean needed discipline.

"Whatever," Dean said. "Just keep him out of my bed."

"He likes sleeping with you."

Dean huffed and flopped onto his mattress. "He keeps it up, I'll toss him out the window." He shut off the light.

Mr. Zeppelin Boots wasn't worried. Dean would never throw him anywhere. He waited until Sam's hand stilled on his neck and Sam was sleeping soundly. He stood and stretched his front paws and his back; he extended his tail out behind him and flipped it back and forth, back and forth, before he jumped the gap between the beds.

Dean was turned away on his side. "Go away," he whispered. "You're supposed to stay with Sam. You're his cat."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots batted him with his claw to show his displeasure. Sam belonged to him, not the other way around. Dean belonged to Mr. Zeppelin Boots, too, and needed to learn that. Right now, though, Dean was ignoring him. Mr. Zeppelin Boots extended his claw on his white paw and gave him another tap.

"Stop it, you stupid cat," Dean said and flipped over towards him. He waved his hand. "Shoo! Go away."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots did no such thing. This is where he slept. Dean would have to get used it. Besides, Dean slept better when he was curled at his side and Mr. Zeppelin Boots was not unkind to his subjects.

Dean cursed him under his breath. "Why won't you stay with Sam?"

Mr. Zeppelin Boots spent the evening hours on Sam's lap. And Mr. Zeppelin Boots divided his time between his boys. Nights and mornings were Dean's time for attention. He rubbed against Dean's side and purred.

Dean sighed. Mr. Zeppelin Boots purred until Dean's breaths became even and his body relaxed.

In the morning, Mary cracked the door open for him. She was tolerable in that way. Mr. Zeppelin Boots squeezed out and inspected his house. He jumped over the salt line across the threshold of the back door, ran out for his business in the yard, and hurried back inside keeping the lines intact.

John sat at the kitchen table. "Hey, cat," he said. "Have you been keeping an eye on the boys?"

Mr. Zeppelin Boots had. He waited for John to throw him a scrap.

The man peered at him, curled his lip, and tossed him a crust of toast. "Don't tell Mary."

No. Mr. Zeppelin would keep the toast to himself. He waited by his bowl. Dean stumbled into the kitchen a moment later. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed the milk, and filled it.

"Don't give the cat milk. He's getting fat." John said. "And he has a perfectly good water dish and bowl of cat food."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots yowled. He was not fat. He was robust, fuzzy, and magnificent.

"He likes milk," Dean said.

Mr. Zeppelin Boots purred and lapped up his milk. He loved milk.

"See. And if he's fat, it's because Sam keeps giving him cheese."

Yes. Sam was a good human. Cheese was delicious.

"And I only fill the milk twice a day." Dean said.

"Your mother fills it twice, too."

"Huh, well, the cat's a sneaky bastard," Dean said and sat at the table. "So how'd he get the bread?"

"Must've fallen on the floor," John raised his paper. "I expect you to behave today at school, Dean," he said. "I know this is an adjustment, I know it's not easy, but you gotta stop getting into trouble."

"Dad, I'm telling you, it's not my fault."

"I'm not gonna let you off the hook every time you call me Dad. You know that, right? It only works the first twenty times or so."

"So I guess I'm not your favorite today, huh?"

Mr. Zeppelin Boots peeked up at John. Words like those usually made John's face fall and his voice go cracked. Today was no different.

"Dean, you've got to get it through your head how much you mean to me," John said. "Hell, son, if that demon had wanted to play for my soul, I would've been game as long as it meant keeping you and Sam safe."

"Especially Sam, huh?" Dean looked like he wished he hadn't said it, like it had just slipped out. Mr. Zeppelin Boots jumped in his lap and rubbed his nose against his chest. Dean made a half-hearted attempt to dislodge him, but Mr. Zeppelin Boots knew it wasn't what he wanted and latched onto Dean's shirt with his claws.

John dropped the subject. "So why is this detention not your fault again?"

Dean cleared his throat. "The history teacher is a witch. I'm sure of it. And she has it in for me."

"A witch?" John said. "That's the excuse you're going with?"

"Someone keeps stealing the rabbits from the biology department. Rabbits and witches don't mix."

"Well." John motioned to Mr. Zeppelin Boots. "Witches like cats."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots turned to him and yowled. He was no witch's cat. He was a hunter's cat.

"Don't say that in front of him Dad. It's not right." Dean sounded rightfully offended. Dean twisted so he could look in Mr. Zeppelin's eyes. "You hate witches, don't you, boy?"

Mr. Zeppelin Boots purred.

"And you know he hates witches how?" John said.

"He tried to scratch out Ms. Bryant's eyes when Sam brought him to school for Pet day."

"Ms. Bryant, the history teacher?"

"The witch," Dean said. "Zep is a hunter. He knows these things."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots swatted Dean's arm. He preferred his formal name.

"You're no weak ass cat, are you, Zep?"

No. Mr. Zeppelin Boots was a robust, hunting cat. Since Dean understood this, Mr. Zeppelin Boots decided to reward him by allowing him to use his nickname without censure.

"Just because he brought you a dead pigeon, doesn't make him a hunter."

"One, I sure as hell didn't want to get home to a dead pigeon on my bed. And, two, I'm telling you, she's a witch and Zep knows it."

It was true that Mr. Zeppelin Boots didn't trust her. If she tried to come after any of his humans, she'd be dealing with twenty-five pounds of snarling orange fury. Mr. Zeppelin Boots protected his subjects. He meowed mightily to show his ferocity.

John sighed. "That cat doesn't like Bobby, either. He almost clawed out his eyes when he came to visit you boys."

"That's different. Bobby is a dog person," Dean said. "Zep can't help not liking him. They're natural enemies."

"Right." John sipped his coffee and peered at Dean. "You really think your history teacher's a witch? And I don't mean a new age witch or a Wiccan. I mean an old school dark witch?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Dad. My bet is she's a rabbit killing, kid maiming, demonically powered witch. Word in the halls is four kids last semester died in freak accidents."

John got serious. "Maybe I should check it out."

"Check what out?" Mary came in the kitchen. She paused and stared when she saw Mr. Zeppelin Boots. Then she averted her eyes from his grandeur, grabbed the milk, and filled his bowl. "What did you want to check?"

Mr. Zeppelin Boots did not particularly care for Mary. She had never shown any inclination to pet his soft, luxurious fur or scratch his delicate ears. He kept her for the milk. She did fill it twice a day. And the boys liked her.

John ruffled his newspaper. "Dean thinks his history teacher's a witch."

"Seriously?" she said.

John nodded. Mr. Zeppelin Boots meowed.

"Well. We'll have to handle that," she said and sat.

Sam walked in the room a moment later. He was dressed and alert. He sat at the fourth chair, took a deep breath, and laid a black leather case on the table.

"Sammy? There a reason you have out your silver coins. I thought you had them hidden in the closet." Dean said.

"I don't think the closet is really that secure," Sam said. He dropped his gaze to Dean's lap, to Mr. Zeppelin Boots, and raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think you liked him, Dean."

"He's attached himself to my shirt, see?"

Dean had the audacity to lift Mr. Zeppelin Boots up to show Sam where his claws were punched through the fabric of his shirt. Mr. Zeppelin Boots didn't put up with that type of treatment from anyone. He retracted his claws, jumped off Dean's lap, and sat with his back to him.

"You made him mad," Sam said.

"Geezus," Dean said. "Here, have some toast or something." A piece of buttered bread landed beside Mr. Zeppelin Boots' white paw. He nosed it. Yes. He would accept Dean's token of forgiveness. He sauntered over and rubbed against his ankle to let him know he was forgiven. It was always important for Dean to be told these things. Dean huffed and pushed him away with his leg but Mr. Zeppelin Boots was not offended. He knew it was for show.

He jumped up on Sam's lap. "Good morning, Mr. Zeppelin Boots." Sam said and grinned.

"Sam?" John said.

"Yeah, um, Dad?" Sam always sounded a little bit hesitant when he said Mom or Dad. Mr. Zeppelin Boots didn't know if that would ever change.

"What's with the case?" John said.

"Frank gave them to me," Sam said.

"We know, sweetie," Mary said.

"He told me they were really special and to keep them safe," Sam said. He scratched Mr. Zeppelin Boots' neck just so. "But I don't really think the closet is that safe." Sam swallowed and looked at John and then Mary. "I decided that I want you all to keep them."

"What?" Dean said. "Really?"

Sam looked pointedly at Dean, leaned in, and whispered. "They've got high enough points now," he said. He turned back to the others. "So, um, Mom, Dad," Sam said. "I want you to put them somewhere safe for me. Please."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots got bored after that. No one was petting him like they should so he got down and irritably stalked out to the front yard. He was cleaning his impressive feet when Sam, Dean, and John came out and went to the car. Mr. Zeppelin followed to keep on eye of them.

"The secret lockbox in the trunk is the safest place I know," John said. "And even when we have to leave in a hurry, the car always comes with us."

Sam seemed to contemplate it. "You sure it will be okay?"

"Come on, Sammy. The car's ten times the safe place the closet is," Dean said.

Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out his butterfly knife. "This and my knife are the two most valuable things I own," he said. He handed over the case slowly and put the knife back in his pocket. "You won't ever melt them down for bullets, right?"

"It'll be safe, I won't melt it," John said. "Why don't you go back inside and see if your mother can give you some more knife lessons before school?"

Sam glanced between John and Dean. "Okay," he said.

Dean looked at John miserably. John only sent Sam away when he wanted to talk to Dean about things Dean didn't want to talk about. Mr. Zeppelin Boots purred against Dean's legs so Dean would know he was here.

"I love you both, Dean. You need to understand that."

Dean fidgeted and looked away. "I know. Your favorite changes day to day, right? Not always Sam. You told me, I got it."

"But you don't believe it," John said.

"I do."

"No, I don't think you do."

Dean was getting upset now. "I need to get ready for school." He moved towards the house.

"Dean, wait."

Dean twisted around. "What? Why do you keep bringing this up? I don't care!" He crossed his arms. "I mean, come on, who's your favorite today? Sam just gave you his silver coin collection. I can't compete with that."

"I don't know," John said and stepped towards him. "Sounds like you may have found me a witch."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, that's as endearing as giving you my most prized possession for safe keeping."

John laughed and put his arm around his shoulder. "The problem we have here, Dean, is you're underestimating how much I love a good witch hunt."

"You can't be serious," Dean said.

"This pans out to be a real hunt, you're on top for the day."

Mr. Zeppelin Boots waited until they were in the house and out of sight. He settled beside the car. He would guard both the car and the coins while his humans were inside.

THE END


End file.
